


Out Of Words

by silver_etoile



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:49:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_etoile/pseuds/silver_etoile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Merlin came out the year before, he has really tried to keep his head down, but when jock Arthur Pendragon demands his help for upcoming A-levels, he finds himself in a new situation that Merlin isn't entirely sure is without strings. Between suspicion for Arthur's motives and Gwaine's assurance that Merlin will be shagged at some point in his life, he just wants to survive his last year of high school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out Of Words

Merlin has never actually spoken to Arthur Pendragon, captain of the football team and the most popular guy in school, in the whole four years he’s been going to Camelot High. The closest he’s ever gotten to speaking with Arthur was when Arthur bowled him over in the hall one time and Merlin had snapped a, “Thanks, wanker.” But Arthur hadn’t even heard, followed by his posse of football prats.

This is exactly why Merlin doesn’t know what to say when he runs into Arthur in the quad - and by run into, he literally almost smacks into Arthur’s chest as Arthur steps in front of him and Merlin is too busy stuffing books into his rucksack to notice.

He stares longer than is probably polite as Arthur says something, all blue eyes and sweeping blond hair, a sarcastic tug to the corner of his mouth.

“You’re Marvin, right?” Arthur says, and any goodwill Merlin might have been willing to throw his way vanishes as he frowns.

“Merlin.” He hikes his bag up higher on his shoulder, glancing around and hoping this isn’t some set-up by the sports team to ambush him. He doesn’t see any of Arthur’s usual friends, though, and looks back as Arthur waves a hand.

“Whatever. You’re in my Lit class, right?”

Merlin doesn’t see where Arthur is going with this but he shrugs in response. He and Arthur have had the same Lit class together for the past four years.

“Yeah?”

Arthur smiles then, all charming and adorably crooked teeth, and Merlin can’t say he doesn’t understand why most of the girls in school are infatuated with him. If only he wasn’t such a huge git.

Suspicion curls in Merlin’s stomach at Arthur’s smile. “I’m not writing any essays for you,” he says, taking a step around Arthur, but Arthur stops him, cutting him off.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Then why are you talking to me?”

“Are you always this paranoid?” Arthur asks, and Merlin doesn’t feel the need to justify that with a response and raises an eyebrow instead.

“What do you want?” he asks instead, crossing his arms over his chest and forcing himself not to fiddle with his bracelets.

If it isn’t enough that Merlin is picked on for his sexuality, he really doesn’t need Arthur Pendragon singling him out for even more ridicule.

Ever since Merlin came out last year, things have changed. People whisper a bit more around him, and gym class has become almost unbearable. These days, Merlin always finds a way out of gym with a forged note from his mother about fake medical conditions. Luckily for him, the teacher agrees with his classmates that he is too “gay” to do sports and let him sit out.

Honestly, Merlin doesn’t mind sports. It’s the comments people make in the locker rooms that he can’t stand. Believe it or not, he has very little interest in anyone at school. Most of them are asses anyway.

Arthur smiles again, in a way that worries Merlin. It probably wouldn’t worry anyone else. Anyone else would be swooning right now, lost in Arthur’s handsome features and the fact that he’s standing so close. But Merlin, Merlin grows increasingly convinced this is a set-up and Percy and Owain are waiting somewhere to ambush him and stick his head down the toilet.

“I need to get into Oxford,” Arthur says, surprising Merlin slightly. “And I need to do incredibly well on my A-levels.”

Merlin blinks, confused. “So?”

Merlin has always been under the impression that despite the fact that Arthur plays too many sports and hangs out with idiotic jocks, he’s fairly smart beyond all that. Either that or teachers let him slide by due to his last name and prowess on the football field.

“So my marks haven’t been good enough on my essays. I want you to help.”

Of all the things Merlin had expected, this isn’t one of them. He stares at Arthur for a moment, studying his face for some kind of joke, like he’s missing something here.

“When you say help, you mean…”

“Tutoring,” Arthur supplies, and it’s only now that he glances around as if to make sure they’re really alone, but school has been out for ten minutes and most people have already gone home. 

Merlin drops his arms and fiddles with the leather bracelet tied around his wrist. “Tutoring,” he repeats flatly and lifts his chin.

What could Arthur need tutoring for? And why would he ask Merlin, of all people, to help him?

“Alice said you were the best in the class,” Arthur goes on without acknowledging Merlin’s skepticism.

Alice, their aging teacher who insists they use her first name, probably only said it because Merlin spends too much time after class discussing books with her. She’s the only teacher in the whole school who treats him like something other than a student.

“Alice is going senile,” Merlin only says, taking another step around Arthur to try and leave.

“What’s your deal?” Arthur asks to Merlin’s back. “I’ll pay you.”

“I don’t want your money,” Merlin snaps as he turns sharply. He doesn’t quite know what it is that makes him annoyed that Arthur just stands there, looking perfectly ruffled with his tie crooked, the first few buttons of his uniform undone. “Find another tutor. I’m sure there are plenty of girls who’d love to help you.”

“And you wouldn’t?” Arthur asks with a slight laugh to his words. He steps up to Merlin, eyes grazing down him, and Merlin feels strangely exposed. “The whole school knows you’re gay.”

Merlin squares his shoulders, a ripple of annoyance running through him. “That has nothing to do with anything.”

“Come on, Marvin—”

“ _Merlin_.”

“—It’s just help on a few essays. I don’t know why you’re acting so weird.”

Arthur wouldn’t understand, Merlin thinks to himself. Arthur can go up to anyone he wants and ask them for favors, and most people will fall over themselves to do it. He isn’t like Merlin, who tries to keep his head down most of the time if only to avoid overhearing comments about himself.

“I can’t help you,” Merlin says abruptly, turning before Arthur can stop him again and striding down the road towards home.

It isn’t that Merlin _can’t_ help Arthur - it’s that he has no intention of buying into whatever scheme this is for his embarrassment or Arthur’s amusement in their last year of school. A-level tests are coming up within months and Merlin has spent the better part of the year trying not to get involved in anything that will get him in trouble.

Gwen says he’s being too focused but he’d rather focus on school than on what people whisper behind his back. He somehow doubts that Arthur intends anything other than something deviant.

At least, he thinks as he heads towards home, Arthur doesn’t come after him. That’s that.

*

Merlin can feel Arthur’s eyes on him as he sits in class, trying to pay attention to what Alice says about Shakespeare, but it’s hard with someone’s eyes boring into the back of his head.

He doesn’t dare turn to look, though, sitting with his shoulders hunched and doodling on the side of his notes.

Next to him, Gwen leans over. “Arthur Pendragon is staring at you,” she whispers, glancing back at Arthur.

Merlin grinds his jaw but resolutely doesn’t turn. Gwen keeps looking back.

“Why is he staring at you?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin mutters. He’d thought yesterday would be the end of it, but all day, it seems like Arthur is everywhere. Maybe Merlin has just never noticed, but Arthur’s locker is just down from his, although Merlin is fairly sure Arthur has never used it before today. Arthur also has a lot of classes just before and after Merlin, and Merlin has had to dodge around him several time already switching classes today.

Or maybe Arthur is just stalking him, planning some dastardly plan to unseat Merlin’s little safety net. He wouldn’t put it past him.

When Alice lets them out, Merlin grabs his things hurriedly, shunting Gwen out of the room and into the hallway.

“What’s going on?” she asks as Merlin casts a careful glance over his shoulder, but Arthur is nowhere to be seen in the throng of students. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Merlin replies, doing his best not to run into anyone as they make their way out to the canteen.

“So do you know why he was staring at you?”

“Gwen,” Merlin says, frustrated, and pushes open the door.

She only shoots him a look in return and goes ahead. Merlin follows, crossing the canteen filled with students to their usual table near the window. Outside, wind blows viciously at the tree in the quad, and Merlin feels cold just looking at it.

“Well?” Gwen asks as they reach their table and sits down next to Gwaine, who is already lounged over the bench.

“Well, nothing,” Merlin replies, and he forcefully doesn’t look over to where Arthur normally sits with the rest of the football players.

“Nothing what?” Gwaine sits up when Gwen shoves his feet off the bench.

Merlin really doesn’t want to get into this with anyone else, but it’s too late as Gwen turns to Gwaine.

“Arthur was staring at Merlin all through Lit.”

“He was not.”

“He was so.”

Merlin groans as Gwaine stretches up to find Arthur in the room. Why can’t his friends just let things go?

“Gwaine, stop it.”

“He’s not staring now,” Gwaine says, sitting back down and arching an eyebrow at Merlin. “Maybe he fancies you. You could do worse than that hot piece of ass.”

Merlin shakes his head at the table and doesn’t bother taking out his lunch. He’s not remotely hungry. He just wants this day to be over, and if he makes it through without Arthur talking to him, he’ll count it a success.

“What do you know about guy’s asses?” Gwen asks, biting into her apple and leaning back as Gwaine tips her chin up with his finger.

“I know plenty about all things sex.”

Gwen rolls her eyes and Merlin agrees silently. He’s known Gwaine for almost three years now, since Gwaine transfered in from the south and immediately shagged Freya, the girl Merlin had been pretending to date. He’s even fooled around with Gwaine, back right before he came out to everyone. They didn’t get much further than handjobs before Merlin got too weird about it and Gwaine assured him the experimenting was normal.

They don’t talk about it much, but Gwaine sometimes winks at Merlin as though he still remembers and is just waiting to drag it out when it will embarrass Merlin the most. Merlin wouldn’t put it past him.

Merlin hopes they’ll just drop the whole subject of Arthur, but his hopes don’t seem to be coming true when Gwen’s eyes widen slightly.

“What?” Merlin asks, following her gaze to where Arthur is crossing the room. His table hasn’t even looked up, somehow uninterested in the fact that Arthur is coming straight for their table.

Even Gwaine sits up interestedly, raking a hand through his ridiculously shiny hair. He eyes Arthur interestedly and quirks an eyebrow at Merlin, silently telling him to shag that while the opportunity presents itself.

Merlin would glare at Gwaine if Arthur doesn’t stop right next to him.

Glancing over, Merlin swallows thickly. Why can’t Arthur just leave him alone? There are plenty of other people who could tutor him.

“Marvin.”

“Merlin,” Merlin grumbles under his breath and raises his dark gaze to Arthur finally.

Arthur glances at Gwen and then Gwaine, who is giving him an appreciative once-over, and Merlin finds himself wishing Gwaine could keep something in his pants, even if Gwaine maintains that he’s not gay, just experimental.

“Have you thought about what I said?”

“You didn’t _say_ anything,” Merlin snaps, ignoring Gwen’s curious look. Now he’ll have to tell her everything. Grimacing, Merlin stands quickly and grabs Arthur’s arm, dragging him away from the table. They could at least do this where everyone isn’t staring at them.

In the hall, Arthur pulls his arm away, shooting Merlin a questioning look.

“Look,” Merlin says simply. “I don’t know what you’re playing at here, but I’m not interested in being the butt of some joke between you and your friends. I just want to get through the rest of this year and get out of here. That’s all.”

“I’m not playing a joke, Marvin,” Arthur says, and Merlin restrains himself from shouting his name at Arthur. Maybe he is as thick as all the other jocks. “I just want your help with a few essays. You can even ask Alice yourself if you want. I swear I’m telling the truth.”

Arthur holds up his hands in surrender, but Merlin still doesn’t believe him. 

Arthur brushes a hand through his hair, tousling it gently, and Merlin hates that he’s so good-looking.

“If you don’t agree, I’m just going to keep asking,” Arthur goes on when Merlin doesn’t respond. 

Merlin is backed up into a corner now, and he can’t see a way out without agreeing to tutor Arthur. He still has no idea why Arthur would even ask him considering Arthur has never noticed him before.

“Fine,” he says finally. “But we’re doing it at school - not at anyone’s house, and I’m only doing it so you’ll leave me alone.”

“Fine,” Arthur agrees easily. “I’ve got practice today, so how about tomorrow? At the library?”

“Whatever,” Merlin mutters, already thinking of ways to get out of this, but Arthur flashes him a smile and something in his knees goes a little weak. He snaps himself together, glaring at Arthur in response and shouldering past him back to the cafeteria.

*

“It’s just tutoring,” Gwen says later as they walk home, and Merlin tries to walk a straight line on the curb. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. I was afraid you’d done something and he and his mates were going to jump you.”

Merlin scoffs, but he can’t say he wasn’t thinking the same. “Arthur Pendragon never gets his hands dirty,” he reminds Gwen. “His mates do it all.”

“What about that fight he got into last year with Valiant?” she reminds him. “They both came out so bloody that Gaius sent them to the hospital.”

Merlin shrugs. No one has ever found out what they fought about, only that Valiant is no longer on the football team and he spends his time smoking behind the gardener’s shed these days.

“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen to me.”

“Your face is too pretty to get bloodied up,” Gwen assures him, linking his arm with hers. “Maybe he does want to snog you like Gwaine said.”

Merlin shakes his head. They’re almost to his street, and a few cars pass them as they walk.

“He’s as straight as they come.”

“You don’t know that. Who was the last person he dated, anyway?”

Merlin tries to think, but he can’t remember anyone. Not that he pays that much attention to Arthur. Arthur usually only hangs around with his mates. There are parties Merlin hears of, but he’s never invited, so he doesn’t know what Arthur gets up to at those.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says as they come to his street and pause. “It’s just tutoring, and hopefully I’ll survive it without having to get to know him.”

“You know, even sports guys have feelings,” Gwen says, but Merlin shrugs.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Gwen smiles briefly as he turns his back and heads down his street. Just a couple essays and he won’t have to speak to Arthur Pendragon ever again.

*

The first time Merlin met Arthur, it was year seven, and Merlin had just moved to the city. He hadn’t known anyone or anything, and he’d spent most of the first half of the day wandering around in a daze, lost and confused. He can’t say he so much met Arthur as was introduced to him by a pack of sighing girls in the courtyard as Arthur played around with his friends.

“He’s so gorgeous,” one had all but sighed, gazing dreamily at Arthur.

Merlin had almost agreed silently until the football Arthur was kicking around soared through the air and smacked him squarely in the head.

Arthur had only laughed with his mates, and Merlin had stormed away, determined never to speak to Arthur again.

Aside from that moment and the one incident in the hallway, Merlin has so far avoided interacting with Arthur. He thinks he’s done a pretty good job of keeping his head down over the years.

That hasn’t stopped him from ending up sitting across from Arthur at the library, books open before them and watching Arthur tap his pen against the desk.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Merlin lifts his head, frowning at Arthur. Arthur doesn’t notice, staring at his book.

Tap. Tap.

They’ve been sitting there for half an hour and they’ve barely done any work, not that Merlin really understands what kind of help Arthur needs aside from the fact that he clearly hasn’t read any of the material for the essay if the way he’s now frowning down at the page is any indication.

Tap.

“Will you stop that?” Merlin says finally and Arthur looks up.

He sets down the pen in the book crease, clasping his hands on top and leaning forward slightly.

“I’ve never done tutoring, but I was under the impression we’re meant to speak.”

Merlin has no idea how he gets himself into these situations, and he curses Gwaine for ever suggesting that Arthur fancies him. Clearly Arthur thinks he’s stupid, and Merlin doesn’t think much different about him.

“What is your essay on?” he asks finally, grabbing Arthur’s book and spinning it to face him.

“Analyzing _Anne Frank’s Diary_.”

Merlin pauses, not glancing up from the book. “But what’s your angle?”

“What angle?”

Sighing, Merlin pushes the book back. “This isn’t just some essay about facts. You can’t just throw in quotes and think people will buy it. You have to have a point of view on the subject.”

Behind him, the librarian comes by with her squeaky cart filled with books. She gives them a fleeting glance before disappearing between the stacks.

Their table is hidden from the main studying area of the library, tucked back behind the economics section and far from any windows. Arthur had chosen it, and Merlin hadn’t argued. The less people who saw this, the better.

Arthur looks at Merlin blankly as he speaks, as if he’s speaking a foreign language.

Merlin rolls his eyes to himself. “Take the perspective of someone in Nazi Germany against Anne Frank. Find sympathies with the bad guys.”

For a moment, Arthur only gives Merlin a look that says he’s mad. “You want me to sympathize with Nazis?”

“You have to _say_ something in your essay, not just analyze a book. Those are boring. No admittance officer wants to read that. Also, you should get someone to proofread.”

“Are you saying I have bad grammar?”

“I’m saying a squirrel has better grammar than you,” Merlin replies grumpily. There are many places he could rather be right now aside from trying to teach Arthur grammar.

Arthur almost looks amused at Merlin’s comment, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth, but Merlin doesn’t notice.

“Merlin!” A voice breaks the muffled silence of the library, and Merlin’s heart jumps as he recognizes Gwaine’s voice. He is sure Gwaine has come to witness his torture of being Arthur’s tutor.

Gwaine bounces down the row of books to the table where Arthur is giving him a skeptical look. Merlin can feel his ears going red just at the thought of what Gwaine might say.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Gwaine says cheerfully, ruffling Merlin’s hair playfully.

Merlin quickly scrapes it back into place. “I didn’t think you knew this school had a library,” he mutters in return.

“Of course! Stacks are great for a shag.” Gwaine takes the seat next to Merlin without an invitation. “How’s the tutoring going?”

“Uh, who are you?” Arthur asks finally.

“Gwaine,” Gwaine says, stretching out to shake Arthur’s hand but pulling it towards him. “Big hands,” he comments with a significant look at Merlin, who waits for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

Arthur pulls his hand back, frowning at Gwaine, and Merlin doesn’t blame him this time. Sometimes Gwaine doesn’t know when to shut up.

“Gwaine,” Merlin says finally as the redness goes down on his ears. “We’re kind of working.”

They aren’t working, but if he’s going to waste his afternoon with Arthur, he could at least do it without an audience.

“Oh, right! Working.” Gwaine winks at Merlin but thankfully climbs up from his chair. “I think I’ll go find Freya.”

Merlin forcefully doesn’t groan as he puts his hands to his face and Gwaine leaves. When he finally lifts them, he finds Arthur watching him curiously.

“Who was that?” Arthur asks, and Merlin sighs.

“He’s just a friend. A mad, stupid, annoying git-friend,” he replies. “Should we get back to the essay?”

“Sure,” Arthur agrees, and Merlin ignores the way Arthur continues to gaze at him as he lists possible angles for the subject.

*

“Mum?” Merlin calls as he gets home, but he doesn’t expect an answer. She isn’t usually home until late anyway, and he dumps his sack in the front doorway.

As he walks in, he leaves a trail of clothes behind him until he reaches the kitchen in only his shirt, halfway unbuttoned already, and his trousers.

For a moment, he rummages in the pantry and comes up with a package of crisps. Back in the living room, he retrieves his bag and dumps it on the table, sorting through for notes to put away.

He has his own essays to worry about, and spending an hour after school with Arthur isn’t exactly how he wants to spend his time. For a moment, he hates Arthur for wasting his time, but he looks around a moment later.

He’s completely alone. His mum won’t be home for another few hours and Gwen is busy with her book club tonight. There is no one to lie to, and he slumps back against the sofa, staring at the dim circle of light on the ceiling.

As much as he pretends to hate Arthur, he can’t deny that he’s one of the most fit boys at school. Before Merlin admitted to himself that he was actually gay, he used to have dreams about Arthur. It’s been a long time since that happened, but he wouldn’t put it past his subconscious to bring it up again.

Arthur, with his soft blond hair, bright blue eyes, muscular body, and full, pink lips that stretch when he smiles at anyone, not that he has smiled much at Merlin, but Merlin has seen him smile at other people. There’s no denying that he’s not the worst-looking bloke in the world.

Merlin, on the other hand, is too skinny, too gangly, has too big of ears, and he has only had a rare few blokes actually hit on him, and most of those were Gwaine, but Gwaine would hit on a rock if he felt like it.

Those girls sighing over Arthur that first day had the right idea, but it’s been too many years since Merlin figured out that Arthur is a royal pain for him to think any thoughts other than that he wishes he hadn’t agreed to this tutoring thing.

It’s just a couple of essays, he tells himself. He can manage that. He can. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself in the solitude of the living room.

*

Sometimes Freya sits with them at lunch, although Merlin isn’t really sure why since she and Gwaine aren’t actually dating, and after Merlin came out, Freya hadn’t spoken to him for five months for lying to her. She seems to have gotten over it, though, because she’s there when Merlin joins them in the canteen.

“Have you decided on your project for physics?” Freya asks Gwen as Merlin takes his seat and shoves Gwaine’s feet off.

“No. I’m still hoping Mr. Daira won’t make us work in pairs.”

“Yes,” Freya agrees emphatically, “I’m stuck with Elena.”

Gwaine laughs next to Merlin, but Merlin is too busy keeping an eye on Arthur to pay attention.

So far, Arthur has not repeated his visit to their lunch table since that day a week ago. To Merlin’s surprise, none of Arthur’s friends have said a word to him, but maybe they just don’t know. Maybe Arthur hasn’t told them that he’s getting help on his essays. It would make sense.

“Merlin?”

Merlin jerks back when Freya says his name loudly. “Sorry?”

Freya exchanges a glance with Gwen that Merlin doesn’t like the look of. “I just asked how the tutoring is going.”

“It’s fine,” he says finally. 

“How long is it going to go on for exactly?”

Merlin shrugs. “Dunno. Hopefully not too much longer. I’d like to get my afternoons back.”

“So you can wank off to thoughts of him, eh?” Gwaine pipes up, and Merlin grimaces.

“No.”

“Dunno why not,” Gwaine says. “I would.”

Freya rolls her eyes, and Merlin wonders why she isn’t upset that Gwaine sometimes messes around with guys. Maybe because he’s never kept that a secret.

“He’s an annoying git,” Merlin says instead of acknowledging Gwaine’s comment. He will never tell Gwaine that he used to dream about Arthur. He would never live it down.

“A beautiful, annoying git.”

Merlin doesn’t bother replying. There is no arguing with who Gwaine thinks is good-looking, and he isn’t exactly wrong about Arthur.

For a moment, Merlin gazes across the tables filled with students to where Arthur sits with his mates. They don’t seem to be talking about anything in particular. Merlin looks away quickly, though, when Arthur raises his head and meets his eye.

Instead, Merlin forces himself to focus on what Freya is saying about her physics project and resolutely does _not_ check to see if Arthur is still looking at him.

*

“I think we need to take a field trip.”

Merlin blinks down at his own notebook for a second before raising his gaze to Arthur across the table. “What?”

Merlin kind of thought they’d be done with the essays by now, but Alice keeps assigning more and Arthur insists he needs Merlin’s help. He hadn’t expected to still be sitting at their table in the library two weeks after Arthur had cornered him in the quad.

“A field trip, walk-about,” Arthur repeats even though Merlin heard him perfectly the first time. “Get out of the library.”

“Why?”

“Do have no sense of adventure, Marvin?”

By this point, Merlin thinks Arthur either just _can’t_ remember his name or he just doesn’t want to. Or he does it to annoy Merlin. Either way.

“It’s snowing out,” Merlin points out instead of correcting his name for the hundredth time. “It’s freezing.”

“It’s just a little water.” Arthur shuts his book and smiles slightly at Merlin. “Are you afraid to get wet?”

“No,” Merlin replies obviously. “I just don’t see the point of freezing my ass off for some perverse pleasure of yours.”

“I only suggested taking a walk.” Arthur laughs. “My God, you’re wound tighter than a clock.”

“It’s too cold for a walk,” Merlin repeats, not rising to Arthur’s barb.

It’s been snowing most of the day and Merlin is already dreading the walk home, but taking another separate walk with Arthur is not something he wants to spend his time doing. He resolved upon agreeing to this that he wouldn’t get to know Arthur beyond his incapabilities at writing essays. He doesn’t want to know anything about Arthur’s friends or family or why he plays football and wants to go to Oxford.

Arthur falls silent for a long moment, and Merlin can feel something other than the awkward tension that usually fills their silences.

“Are we done?” he asks finally when no one speaks.

“Yeah, sure,” Arthur agrees after a second, and Merlin packs up his books quickly, grabbing his notebook and standing from the chair.

He only gets a few steps before Arthur’s hand pulls him back, a light grip on his arm to get him to stop.

“Hey, wait,” Arthur says, and Merlin finds himself facing Arthur, barely a foot apart. In the small space, he can see that he and Arthur are within and inch or two of each other’s height, Merlin slightly taller, but he still feels smaller as Arthur releases his arm. “There’s a party this weekend at Morgana’s. You should come.”

Merlin doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been invited to any of the parties held by Arthur, Morgana, or anyone else in that circle. In fact, he’s only ever talked to Morgana once in his life. All he knows about her is that she and Gwen used to be good friends in primary school, but they had some sort of falling out once they reached secondary. Gwen doesn’t talk about her much, but Gwen is much too nice to say the things Merlin hears from other people about Morgana and her group of friends.

“Er, I don’t…”

“Bring your friends,” Arthur interrupts before Merlin can come up with an excuse. “That girl you’re always with.”

“Gwen,” Merlin supplies, though he knows Arthur won’t bother to remember that.

“Right, her.” Arthur nods. “So I’ll see you there?”

Merlin opens his mouth to say no, but Arthur has already brushed past him and tosses him a knowing smile over his shoulder.

“Bye, Marvin.”

Deflating, Merlin drags his feet to follow. “Merlin,” he mutters to himself.

*

Merlin fully intends _not_ to go to the party. For one, he has absolutely no interest in spending an evening drinking with people he doesn’t even like, and for two, he especially doesn’t want to go because Arthur invited him.

“Fuck, man!” Gwaine says, though, when Merlin accidentally mentions it on Friday during lunch. “We have to go.”

“No,” Merlin says firmly. “No. I don’t want to go. Gwen, do you want to go? I mean, it is Morgana’s party.”

Gwen hesitates at that. “Well, Arthur did invite you.”

“Exactly,” Gwaine says as though that should mean something more than it does to Merlin. “He invited you specifically. It would be rude not to.”

“What do you know about being polite?” Merlin asks, scowling now. 

Gwaine slinks an arm around his shoulder and gets close to his ear as though whispering a secret. “I know that Morgana is a posh bitch and there will be a shit-ton of alcohol at this party. So we’re going, and you’re going to get pissed and forget all about school and essays and Oxford. And Gwen and I will come with you. For moral support.”

Merlin scoffs, pushing Gwaine’s arm off him. “He probably just did it so I’ll show up and look like an idiot. It’s probably some big joke.”

“So what if it is?” Gwaine asks obviously. “Show up, drink as much as you want, and tell them all to piss off. It’s about time people stopped giving you shit for liking blokes. They don’t do it to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re… you.” Merlin gestures vaguely at Gwaine.

“What does that mean?”

“You’re fit and good-looking and charming in a boorish sort of way.”

“Thank you,” Gwaine deadpans, but Merlin knows he won’t take it seriously. 

“I just mean people actually want to shag you. No one wants to shag me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Gwaine ruffles Merlin’s hair. “Someone’ll shag you. I would have if you hadn’t been such a blushing bride about it.”

Merlin glares, but his ears go red all the same.

“So are we going to the party or not?”

Merlin has run out of excuses not to go, and at least he won’t be alone. Gwen only shrugs when he looks at her for help.

“Fine,” he says at length. “We’ll go, but we’re not staying all night.”

“Just long enough to get good and drunk,” Gwaine assures him, and despite Gwaine’s enthusiasm, Merlin can’t shake the pit forming in his stomach.

*

Gwen leads the way to Morgana’s house since she’s the only one who has actually been there before. When they arrive, Merlin can’t help staring up at the house, four times the size of his and already packed to the gills with people.

“Don’t get lost,” Gwen warns him as she leads the way inside through the open front door.

Merlin has never been inside a house so big in his life, and he can’t take it all in. The entranceway towers above him, and past that in the sitting room, the walls are lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves, crammed with things Merlin is sure he’d like to read.

He doesn’t know much about Morgana aside from what rumors tell him, and he knows she and Arthur are related somehow - cousins maybe. What he does know is that Morgana is part of the elite group at school and wouldn’t be caught dead speaking to him.

That’s probably why Merlin jumps when Morgana appears before him, tall and slim with the grace of good breeding. She flips her long, black hair over her shoulder, a drink already in her hand as she looks him up and down. Merlin is fairly sure she doesn’t even know who he is.

“Gwen,” she says finally, gracious and sweet, although Merlin notices her smile seems forced. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

It’s abundantly clear that Morgana would not have invited Gwen if she’d had her way.

Gwen forces back a smile as well. “Arthur invited us.”

“Did he?” Her smile presses together and her eyes travel over Merlin and then Gwaine, who is more interested in finding the beer than making small talk. “Well, enjoy yourselves.”

She sweeps away through the crowd, immediately converging with Vivian and Morgause probably to whisper about them. Merlin watches as Morgana laughs loudly and they disappear into the house. Maybe this was a mistake.

“Come on,” Gwaine says, tossing his arm over Merlin’s shoulder and turning him towards the mass of students in the living room. “Let’s find the booze.”

This is going to be a terrible night, Merlin thinks as Gwaine drags him through the crowd in search of much-needed alcohol.

*

Gwaine is the only one of them who can actually hold his liquor, so after three cups of the punch mix set out, Merlin is definitely starting to feel it. The ground sways unsteadily under his feet, but his head feels relatively clear despite it all. Maybe he just thinks that.

They’ve been at the party for almost an hour already and Merlin hasn’t seen hide nor hair of Arthur for which he is glad. His tongue feels looser as he sits on the couch next to Gwen. Gwaine disappeared twenty minutes ago with some girl Merlin didn’t recognize.

“How are you feeling?” Gwen asks as Merlin rests his head on her shoulder. She hasn’t had nearly as many drinks as he has.

“I’m fine,” he says, pushing himself up, and the room sways before him. He blinks firmly. “I’m really fine.”

“Good,” she agrees. 

“Haven’t seen Arthur, that tosser,” he goes on, glancing around, but the room is so crowded with other people that spotting one would be almost impossible. Merlin isn’t sure that this many people even go to their school.

“Maybe he’s not here.”

“He’s here,” Merlin says seriously. “He must be. Why would he have invited me if he wasn’t?”

Gwen shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe he was just being friendly.”

Merlin shoots her a skeptical look. “Arthur Pendragon is not friendly. He’s a posh arse who uses his name and money to get things he wants.”

Gwen purses her lips together but doesn’t respond to him. Instead, she strokes his hair softly.

“M’gonna find the loo,” Merlin mumbles a moment later, struggling up from the couch.

“It’s upstairs,” Gwen tells him. 

Merlin stumbles a step but catches his balance and heads for the stairs. As he goes, he can’t help looking for Arthur, but there’s no sign of him anywhere, and Merlin doesn’t know why he cares. Arthur only invited him to prove some point, to humiliate him in front of his friends. Well, Merlin won’t give him the satisfaction.

Upstairs, people dot the hallway and Merlin finds the bathroom at long last, relieving himself and sighing into the silence.

Music from downstairs thuds against the walls and he’s glad to be alone, to attempt to clear his head, but he’s had too many drinks for that.

Instead, he zips up his trousers and washes his hands slowly. He avoids looking at his reflection in the mirror, knowing he’ll only see smudged eyeliner, pale skin, and too many bracelets on his left wrist. He doesn’t normally wear the eyeliner in school, knowing he’ll only catch more shit for it if he does. It’s dark at the party, though, so he can probably get away with it here.

He rubs his face for a second, unwilling to leave the safety of the toilet for the party. He doesn’t even know where Gwaine has gotten to.

As he stands there, a loud thud rattles the door and the handle turns. Merlin didn’t bother to lock it when he came in, and he watches as the door opens and someone stumbles in a step.

Arthur’s eyes widen as he sees Merlin there. “Merlin.”

Merlin doesn’t even notice the correct usage of his name as he immediately glares at Arthur - Arthur in his tee shirt and jeans, the first time Merlin has ever seen him out of his school uniform. The clothes certainly show off his body better than the ugly blue blazer. 

“Arthur,” Merlin sneers, turning back to the mirror and fixing his hair and ignoring the rest of the mess on his face. 

He doesn’t intend to stay with Arthur in the toilet, but Arthur shuts the door behind him and Merlin sees him come into the mirror behind him.

“Enjoying your party?” Merlin asks, a curl of annoyance rising in his chest. He hasn’t seen Arthur the whole night and Arthur is the one who invited him.

“Morgana always invites way too many people,” Arthur replies.

Merlin turns to face him and finds Arthur less than a foot away. He barely reacts, only arches an eyebrow.

“Yeah? And where are your mates? Waiting to ambush me downstairs?”

Arthur cocks his head to the side. “They’re probably off shagging somebody.”

Merlin frowns and shakes his bracelets down on his wrist. It’s getting unbearably warm under his jacket, although it might be the alcohol causing the flush in his cheeks.

“And why aren’t you?”

Arthur pauses, and he takes a step towards Merlin, pushing him up against the sink. Merlin stumbles back, knocking the bar of soap to the floor as his hands flail. He has never been this close to Arthur, or well, almost anyone, not with Arthur’s face inches from his, their lower halves so close to actually touching that it makes Merlin’s heart thunder in his ears. He blames the drinks for how hot it suddenly is in the toilet.

“Maybe I will be,” Arthur says finally, and Merlin can’t process this.

He can smell alcohol on Arthur’s breath, see the way his eyes have darkened, and Merlin forces himself to swallow down the lump in his throat. This isn’t happening.

“I-I should,” Merlin starts to say, but despite his mumbled words, he can only stare at Arthur, not moving away when Arthur leans in and kisses him.

Merlin has kissed other blokes before, but none made his heart explode, racing as he feels Arthur’s lips pressed to his. His brain can’t keep up with his mouth, not when Arthur opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, tracing the seam of Merlin’s lips, nipping at his bottom lip and drinking in Merlin’s surprised gasp.

Merlin’s hands stay firmly clutching the sink, too stunned to do anything else. He _lets_ Arthur kiss him, lets him lick into his mouth, tongue curling against his and stealing his breath until Merlin has to pull away.

“What the fuck,” he breathes sharply, finally coming to his senses as he shoves Arthur back. He isn’t as strong as Arthur, but Arthur lets him do it, lets him wriggle out from against the sink. He doesn’t know what kind of answer he wants, and he doesn’t wait for one.

Yanking open the door, he leaves Arthur behind, muscling past people in the hall and taking the steps two at a time. He nearly falls at the bottom but catches himself on the post.

Rubbing at his mouth, he tries to gather himself. His heart still feels as though it’s going to climb right out of his throat, but he forces himself to take a breath and let it out.

He needs another drink, he decides. Another drink will make all this go away.

*

Merlin doesn’t tell Gwen or Gwaine what happened at the party. He doesn’t think he can handle the embarrassment, and he doesn’t know what any of it meant anyway.

Before two weeks ago, he had never had a real conversation with Arthur, hadn’t even acknowledged him at school. And now, Arthur was cornering him in toilets and snogging him. It just doesn’t make sense.

Arthur was drunk, Merlin tells himself. They were both definitely not in full control of their senses. Even the extra drinks hadn’t erased the memory the next morning, although it had definitely given him a wicked hangover.

His mum had frowned at him all morning and forced him to clean out all the cupboards as punishment.

All Merlin can hope for is that Arthur doesn’t remember or if he does, that he won’t bring it up. Merlin doesn’t know what he would say if asked, and he’d like to avoid the humiliation if possible. Unless, that is the whole point. He hadn’t thought of that.

Maybe that’s what Arthur has been up to this whole time - trying to get Merlin to snog him so he’ll have something to hold over his head for the rest of time.

Monday morning comes too soon and Merlin dreads every step he takes toward school, his rucksack weighing him down until he’s dragging his feet and barely makes it in time for his first class.

Luckily, he doesn’t have a class with Arthur until Lit, but that means the dread only builds until he seriously considers skiving off, but Gwen sees him first and he’s forced to go in.

He keeps his head down, only checking once to see if Arthur’s there, but his chair is empty. Turning back to the front, he grabs out his notebook and tries to pay attention to Gwen’s chattering about the last essay.

“I hope Alice gives it back today,” she says, and Merlin hums a vague agreement, head snapping up every time the door opens. It isn’t Arthur, though, not until the bell rings and Arthur steps in a second after.

Merlin sees Arthur tug his tie undone as he walks past his desk without a second glance at Merlin. A part of Merlin sighs in relief, but another part wonders what Arthur is playing at this time. He doesn’t dare look back, though, and keeps his eyes frontwards as Alice begins the lesson.

By the end of class, things feel almost back to normal. Gwen hasn’t noticed anything wrong, and Arthur hasn’t moved from his chair near the back. Merlin gets good marks from Alice on his essay and she slips him an extra book as he’s leaving class. 

In the hall, he walks with Gwen towards the canteen. Maybe Arthur doesn’t remember.

Just as they reach the door to the canteen, Merlin hears a familiar voice behind him, and it knots his stomach as he freezes.

“Hey,” Arthur says, catching up to them, and Merlin doesn’t want to turn, but Gwen already has.

“Hi,” he says slowly, keeping his eyes away from Arthur’s face. He hasn’t spent the whole of the weekend thinking about Arthur’s mouth and how it felt on his for those few moments before common sense had kicked in.

“I’ve got extra practice this week,” Arthur says as though oblivious to Merlin’s thoughts. “So I can’t meet at the library.”

“Oh, okay,” Merlin says, feeling a bit relieved that that’s all Arthur wants to talk about. He turns to leave, but Arthur goes on.

“We could do it at my house instead.”

Merlin turns back, eying Arthur this time. “Your house?”

He doesn’t like the sound of that. Hadn’t one of the rules been to only study at school? He doesn’t want to see Arthur’s mansion, although at least they might not be alone there.

“Yeah. My dad’s never home. It’d be quiet.”

There went Merlin’s hopes. 

“This week isn’t really good,” Merlin mutters, although he can’t think of an actual excuse other than the fact that he’s sort of afraid to be alone with Arthur, afraid of what he might do or say or what Arthur might do or say.

Arthur pauses for a second and then turns to Gwen. “You’re Gwen, right?”

“Er, yes,” she says, glancing at Merlin and then at Arthur.

“We haven’t really met, but I see you all the time.”

“Oh,” Gwen says, looking slightly confused, but she smiles all the time. “Yeah, I know you.”

Merlin has no idea what’s going on as Arthur grins at Gwen, and he can see a faint blush along her cheeks. He guesses even girls like Gwen are no match for Arthur’s smile. He doesn’t like it and he wishes Arthur would stop.

“Fine, we’ll study at your house,” Merlin says, if only to interrupt the obvious flirting going on. He isn’t sure why it bothers him, but it does.

Arthur turns his grin to Merlin instead, and Merlin hates that the knot in his stomach tightens as a ripple of something lighter flutters through him.

“Great,” Arthur says, and he’s called away by Percy before he can say any more.

“What was that?” Gwen asks as they finally turn to the canteen and enter.

“I don’t know,” Merlin replies, although he’s pretty sure he has an idea.

*

Arthur’s house is just as big as Morgana’s, and Merlin can’t believe he’s actually standing here. Why couldn’t he have just not come? There wasn’t anything making him come. He could have just skived off with Gwaine and gone to the movies or spent the afternoon watching the telly.

Instead, he stands in front of Arthur’s monstrous house and forces himself to raise his hand and ring the bell.

He has no idea what they’re actually going to do, and when the door doesn’t open immediately, he considers turning around and going home and pretending he was never there in the first place.

Just as he starts to turn, though, the door opens and Arthur stands there, skin glistening with water and his hair wet. He has a towel in his hand and Merlin can see his shirt sticking to his skin.

“Hey, sorry, I was just showering,” Arthur says, opening the door wider to let Merlin in.

Merlin passes him slowly, careful to keep to himself and keep his eyes away from the tight jeans Arthur has on. 

“No one’s home,” Arthur says as Merlin glances around the cavernous living room, pristinely decorated and cleaned. They probably have a maid.

“Where’s your dad?” Merlin doesn’t know much about Arthur’s father except that he’s a big businessman of some sort.

“In London on business. He won’t be back until Friday.”

“Is he ever home?” Merlin shouldn’t be asking these questions, but they come to mind and out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“He was here on Thursday,” Arthur says, breezing past Merlin and tossing the towel over the back of an old-looking chair.

The whole living room looks like a smoking room to Merlin with wood-paneled walls and nooks for displaying expensive statues and pottery and books no one ever reads.

“You want something?”

“Sorry?” Merlin looks up at Arthur, watching a drip of water fall from his hair and roll down the side of his neck.

“To drink?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he says sharply, shaking himself. It isn’t his fault that Arthur is so fit and looks especially good wet. “We should probably start working.”

He glances around, but there’s no obvious place to work in this room.

Arthur nods at the stairs. “We can use my room.”

Logically, Merlin knows that studying in Arthur’s room isn’t any different than studying in the living room since no one is home anyway, but his heart still beats a little faster at the suggestion.

“O-okay,” he agrees quietly, though, waiting for Arthur to go first and determinedly not looking at his ass as they climb the stairs.

Upstairs is just as posh as downstairs with a shiny wood floor and white doors on either side of the hall. Photos line the walls, of Arthur and a man that looks like him - his father, it must be. There are even a few of Morgana and Arthur and women Merlin doesn’t know.

Arthur opens one of the doors, and Merlin leaves it open as he enters, as though having it open gives him some sort of escape route.

Arthur’s room is at least twice the size of Merlin’s, the bedcovers rumpled and messy, and the desk in the corner piled with books and papers. Clearly the maid doesn’t clean in here.

Arthur yanks up the covers to something decent and sits down on the bed as Merlin looks around, at the stack of DVDs by the large television in the corner, the bay windows that overlook a field and a church in the distance.

For a moment, neither say anything, and Merlin wonders how long they can put this off. 

“How’d you do on your essay?” Arthur asks when Merlin is only staring out the window, unwilling to turn.

“Pretty good. You?”

He hears rummaging and turns to see Arthur pulling the crumpled paper out of his bag. Even from this distance, Merlin can see the red marks.

“Apparently it still needs some work.”

There’s nothing for it, and Merlin crosses the room, sitting on the opposite side of the bed, as far from Arthur as possible without it seeming rude.

He takes the essay, using the opportunity not speak as he peruses Alice’s comments.

“It’s not that bad. Mostly ideas.”

Arthur shoots him an unimpressed look. “Wonderful. And how do we fix that?”

“You come up with better ideas.” Merlin tosses the essay back on the bed and ignores how Arthur watches him. 

“We’re not all literary geniuses, Marvin.”

Merlin scowls. “Then maybe you should find one to help you.”

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Arthur asks, and Merlin can’t _believe_ him.

“Me?” Merlin asks incredulously. “Are you really this thick?”

He stares at Arthur in the silence that follows, hoping this is all just some prolonged dream and he’ll wake up in a few moments with his life back to normal and Arthur far away from him. How can Arthur not remember? How can he pretend he doesn’t? How can he wonder why Merlin is annoyed?

“I don’t know why I agreed to this in the first place,” Merlin says when Arthur only furrows his eyebrows in response. Merlin grabs his sack off the floor and swings it over his shoulder as he rises from the bed and heads for the door.

This has all just been a huge mistake - agreeing to tutor Arthur, going to that party, coming here. Just one bad decision after another and Merlin knows he’s going to pay the price eventually.

“Wait,” Arthur says, catching Merlin before he can step into the hall. He grabs Merlin’s upper arm, forcing him to turn. “Is this about the party?”

Merlin glares and Arthur releases his arm. Of course it’s about the bloody party.

Arthur shrugs. “I haven’t told anyone that you kissed me.”

Merlin eyes widen and he puffs up in rage. “ _You_ kissed _me_!”

“Why would I do that?” Arthur has an infuriating smirk on his face as he stands there.

“Because you’re mental!” Merlin explodes. “I’m not interested in being one of your lot’s games. Let’s pick on the scholarship kid because he’s gay and nobody likes him and he doesn’t fit in! It might be fun for you but it’s sure as hell not for me. Do us both a favor and find yourself a new tutor.”

Merlin’s bag smacks Arthur as he turns and strides all the way out of the house without once looking back. He isn’t interested in being the butt of anyone’s joke, especially Arthur and his football mates. 

Outside, he slips on the icy street but never looks back. He’s done with Arthur. Completely done.

*

Merlin never thought his life would change from just talking to Arthur, but even now when he’s trying his best to ignore Arthur’s existence, he can still feel it all around him. It isn’t just Arthur’s eyes on him during Lit or Gwen’s worried glances, the questions she doesn’t actually come out and say, but how when Merlin actually goes to his locker on Wednesday after class, his shoulder is knocked forward painfully as it crashes into the metal.

Looking over, he finds Percy, the biggest guy on the football team, standing a few feet away. Merlin isn’t stupid enough to snap something at Percy, but he wants to.

“Hear you’re not tutoring Arthur anymore,” Percy says, voice low, and it isn’t exactly what Merlin expected.

Merlin rubs his shoulder and scowls. “What’s it to you? Don’t tell me the whole football team is as thick as Arthur and needs tutoring.” He can’t help the words from coming out of his mouth, and he fully expects to be shoved into the lockers next, but Percy doesn’t move.

“Arthur’s not thick.”

“Could have fooled me,” Merlin mutters, keeping a safe distance from Percy, although he doubts it would help in a fight. “What do you want? I assume Arthur said something about me? Sent you to rough me up, give me a black eye for daring to defy him. What are you waiting for?”

He feels reckless, saying these things. He would almost welcome a fist to the face, just something so that he doesn’t have to be in limbo wondering when Arthur is finally going to enact his plan of humiliation. He’s already got the ammunition. All he has to say is that Merlin came on to him, and whether or not it’s true, everyone in school will believe him.

Percy stands up straighter, and Merlin braces himself for the hit. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to take many, but at least it will be over with.

“Hey!” A sharp voice breaks through Merlin’s resolve to take the punch Percy has to be going to throw. Gwaine steps up beside Merlin, and as much as Merlin appreciates it, even he doesn’t think Gwaine can take on Percy, who towers over both of them. Gwaine does, however, have more of a presence and a lot more muscles than Merlin does. “What’s going on here?”

Percy’s gaze slides from Merlin to Gwaine and then back again.

“Nothin’,” Percy says finally, turning and loping off down the halls. Merlin and Gwaine watch until he turns a corner and vanishes.

Gwaine turns to Merlin. “The fuck was that?”

“Nothing,” Merlin mutters, yanking his locker open although he can’t remember why he even came here in the first place. 

“Bullocks. It was not nothing,” Gwaine pushes. “Percy’s built like a tank. He could have taken you out with one finger.”

A ripple of annoyance passes through Merlin, but he knows Gwaine is right. He slams the locker door shut and hoists his sack over his shoulder, turning to head towards the entrance. Gwaine falls into step with him, watching Merlin with an unblinking stare until Merlin huffs out a breath.

“If I tell you something, you have to swear not to tell anyone else, not even Gwen or Freya.”

“On my honor,” Gwaine promises, but on Merlin’s look, he rolls his eyes. “Okay, on my mother’s honor.”

They reach the front doors and push them open. A light drift of snow falls but Merlin is glad for the shock of cold as they step out.

“So?” Gwaine asks as they walk further away from school grounds.

Merlin hasn’t actually said it aloud to anyone, and he isn’t really sure where to start, but Gwaine isn’t going to let it go now. 

“The party last weekend,” he says finally, and Gwaine’s face lights up. 

“That’s where all good stories start. Go on.”

Gwaine is entirely too eager for this story, Merlin thinks, but he sighs anyway and tries not to slip in the gathering snow.

“I went to the loo—”

“You walked in on a menage a trois! Who was it? Wait, don’t tell me!”

“Gwaine,” Merlin groans. He certainly isn’t making this any easier.

“Right, so you went to the loo,” Gwaine says, attempting to be serious.

“And I, well, sort of, ran into Arthur.”

Gwaine’s mouth curls into a smirk but he says nothing. Merlin kicks at the ground as they walk, shivering as snowflakes hit the back of his neck.

He hasn’t really wanted to tell anyone because telling people makes it real and makes it a real problem. He’d rather it would all just go away. Magically somehow.

“And the climax?” Gwaine asks, and when Merlin looks up sharply, grins and adds, “of the story.”

“We kissed.”

“You kissed?”

“He kissed me.”

Gwaine’s grin is going to break his face, and it doesn’t make Merlin feel any better. In fact, he feels his stomach sinking with each second that passes as Gwaine looks gleeful. 

“Arthur Pendragon, captain of the football team, kissed you, Merlin.” Gwaine laughs, but Merlin doesn’t find any joy at all in the situation.

“It’s not funny,” he says finally. “Why do you think he did it?”

Gwaine shrugs. “He was shitfaced.”

Merlin tosses him a skeptical look. “He remembers it. He did it so he could have something to lord over me, so he can either blackmail me into doing something for him - God knows what - or so he can tell his mates so they can go after me again like last year.”

“Merlin,” Gwaine says, finally sounding somewhat serious about the situation. “You’ve got to let it go. Things have been much better this year. Ever since Valiant quit the team, they’ve let up a lot.”

He does have a point there, but Merlin still can’t think of any other reason why Arthur would go through all this trouble to humiliate him.

“Well, Arthur’s not gay, so that doesn’t explain anything.”

“You can’t be sure,” Gwaine says as they turn onto Merlin’s street and wind kicks up behind them. Merlin grabs the collar of his jacket to keep the warmth from his body in. “Want me to test him out?”

“No,” Merlin says obviously. Up ahead, his house comes into sight, and he supposes Gwaine is coming over for tea. “I don’t want you to test anything.”

“It’ll be easy,” Gwaine goes on as though Merlin hasn’t spoken. “I’ll just nip in while he’s showering after practice, see if he wants a little oral lesson, and that’s that.”

“Or he could beat the shit out of you,” Merlin points out. He doesn’t like the idea of Gwaine hitting on Arthur, especially not when Arthur could probably tear him limb from limb if he wanted. Gwaine may have been strong, but he didn’t practice at it like Arthur.

“Or he could say yes and then you’d know for sure that he really does want to snog you.”

“You’re not testing anything,” Merlin says firmly as they climb the stairs to his house and he pulls out his keys. 

“Okay,” Gwaine agrees skeptically. “But I’m telling you it’d be faster this way.”

Merlin frowns as he unlocks the door. Arthur isn’t gay. The whole school would know if he was. 

“Are you coming for tea or not?” he asks, pushing the door open and a blast of warm air hits him.

“If by tea, you mean brandy, then yes.” Gwaine grins and pushes past Merlin into the house. Merlin stays on the step, gazing out at the snow-covered street, pristine for the moment, but it won’t last, and he turns to go inside.

*

Merlin spends the next few days waiting for the other shoe to drop. Percy hasn’t tried to corner him anywhere else, and Arthur hasn’t tried to either. They’re probably just biding their time until Merlin can be lulled into a sense of complacency. Perhaps he is a bit paranoid, Merlin considers as he sits in Lit class and determinedly doesn’t check to see what Arthur is doing behind him.

Instead, he keeps his head down and listens to whatever Alice is saying about developing a style.

At the end of class, Merlin gathers his things, only to be stopped by Alice before he can get out the door.

“Merlin, could you hold on a minute?” she asks, and Gwen shoots him a smile as she leaves.

Hanging back, Merlin edges up towards the board and avoids looking at Arthur as he passes. Alice cleans off the board and turns to him when all the class has left the room.

Finally, Alice turns to him, a smile on her pudgy face. “How’s the tutoring been going?”

Merlin hesitates, hoisting his books higher in his arms. “Oh, it’s… going.”

“Arthur did particularly poorly on his essay this week,” she goes on, and Merlin feels a sting of something close to guilt, though he doesn’t know why. “Now, I know you’re not a miracle worker, and I know Arthur is under a great deal of stress, but it’s important to him to get into Oxford, and his writing right now just won’t cut it.”

“Stress?” Merlin doubts Arthur has much stress. How hard can it be to be rich and popular?

“Oh, Merlin, you know about his father, don’t you?”

“No?” Merlin doesn’t know much of anything about Arthur’s family. 

Alice gazes at him for a second and then shakes her head. “It’s not my place. I just want you to help him as much as you can. You never know what you’ll get out of helping others.”

Merlin doesn’t like the sound of that, but the conversation appears to be over as Alice returns to her desk. Sighing to himself, Merlin turns and leaves, traipsing down the mostly empty hallway to the canteen. Luckily Arthur isn’t waiting outside this time.

“What did Alice want?” Gwen asks when he sinks onto the bench.

“Just to talk about Arthur.”

Gwaine glances up but he says nothing. True to his word, he hasn’t mentioned a thing about the kiss to anyone else.

“How is that? You haven’t said lately.”

He doesn’t know why he lies to Gwen, but he says, “It’s fine,” without really thinking. Aside from the fact that he hasn’t talked to Arthur in a week, everything is fine.

He doesn’t need to talk to Arthur. He doesn’t need to have anything to do with him, but Alice’s words still ring in his head. She wants him to help Arthur.

Glancing over to where Arthur sits next to Leon, smiling at something Leon says, Merlin can’t be sure how much more torture he wants to put himself through for Arthur’s sake. So far, Arthur has only proven Merlin right - that he is a self-centered, self-absorbed football git who thinks he can get away with murder.

Merlin doesn’t see where he fits in, but he can’t help the annoying tug of guilt for not helping Arthur improve his writing. Even if Arthur _was_ a complete prat, he at least admits his faults in one area. 

His heart sinking, Merlin knows he has to suck up whatever anger and suspicion he feels towards Arthur and at least attempt to help him, but he won’t take any more of Arthur’s games.

Merlin looks away from Arthur finally, picking at his lunch and dreading the afternoon to come.

*

He manages to put off speaking to Arthur all the way through his last four classes, not that Arthur is in any of his last few classes, but he can feel the impending doom hanging over his head the whole time.

He doesn’t even know where to find Arthur, he realizes as his last class is dismissed and there’s a mad rush for the door. His first thought is the training gym, since outside is still all ugly brown slush and the field is basically a mud pit.

Merlin has never been in the training gym, especially since he generally avoids all gyms at school, and he pushes open the door, hoping to sneak in, but it squeaks loudly and he winces at the noise.

The noise attracts every pair of eyes in the gym, which happens to be the whole football team. For a moment, Merlin freezes. It’s too late to back out now and claim ignorance of what room this is, especially when Arthur’s eyes swivel around and land on him.

As he watches, Arthur says something to the rest of the guys. Most of them laugh and go back to training as Arthur trots over.

Merlin determinedly doesn’t look at the low swoop of Arthur’s shirt, the lack of sleeves that leave his muscular arms bare, the baggy fit of his shorts. 

“Come to join the team?” Arthur asks as he reaches Merlin, and his smirk does nothing to ease Merlin’s misgivings.

He wishes just once Arthur could be someone other than the confident idiot he is most of the time.

Merlin merely frowns and scuffs the ground with his shoe. “I talked to Alice. She said your last marks were shit.”

Arthur doesn’t even blink. Merlin’s frown deepens at his non-reaction.

“I’ll help you with your essays,” he says slowly, watching Arthur’s face, but nothing changes. “But I am not going to any more parties, and I’m not dealing with your henchmen.”

Arthur arches an eyebrow at that, and Merlin’s eyes flicker to Percy and Leon, who are both watching them. Arthur twists his head around to look, but Percy and Leon turn away quickly.

“Do we have a deal?”

Honestly, Merlin would really rather just forget about the whole thing, but he can’t disappoint Alice.

Arthur turns back, looking Merlin up and down for a moment. Merlin feels awkward, standing in the training gym, still in his uniform while Arthur barely has any clothes on.

“Sure,” Arthur says finally, as though he’s the one doing Merlin the favor and not the other way around.

“Fine,” Merlin replies, turning sharply on his heel and leaving, barely wincing at the loudness of the door as it slams behind him.

*

“You know who I think is at least a little bit gay?” Gwaine says from where he sits at Merlin’s windowsill, blowing the smoke from his cigarette out the open window that lets progressively colder air into the room. He came over to study, but so far Merlin is the only one who’s done any work.

He doesn’t respond to Gwaine, underlining a passage in his book.

“Percy,” Gwaine says despite Merlin’s silence.

“Percy?” Merlin repeats skeptically. “He’s huge.”

“He’s probably got a huge cock too.” Gwaine grins over at him and flicks the cigarette out the window. He shuts the glass and flops on Merlin’s bed next to him instead. “You’ve never thought?”

Merlin rolls his eyes. Leave it to Gwaine to debate the gay-ness of people at his school.

“There are no other gay people at school. I would know.”

“Because you’re so social,” Gwaine says and Merlin frowns. “And your gaydar is so on point. You thought I was straight.”

“The first thing you ever did was sleep with my girlfriend.”

“You didn’t even like her that much.”

Merlin doesn’t argue the point. He tries to focus on his textbook, but Gwaine keeps talking.

“Be honest,” he says bluntly. “If you had to choose someone at school to shag, who would it be? Sexuality aside.”

Merlin pauses, fully intending to ignore Gwaine, but Arthur’s face swims into his mind, the water dripping down his neck that day at his house, how full his lips had felt against his own, the flex of the muscles in Arthur’s bare arms.

He shakes away the image, though, but not before Gwaine sees.

“Oh! You were thinking of someone. Who was it?”

“No one,” Merlin says firmly, shutting his book with a snap. “And I don’t think Percy is gay.”

“Not even a little?” Gwaine asks, and Merlin is glad he’s decided not to push. “The bloke never talks and he must spend all his time training, surrounded by half-naked guys.”

“I avoid the gym,” Merlin points out and Gwaine scoffs. 

“Well, you’re a stick, and you’re out.”

Merlin shakes his head. Percy is not gay, so far as he is concerned, and neither is Arthur, and the kiss was just a drunk fluke that will never be repeated.

He only wishes he could stop thinking about it. It pops into his head at random times, times when he shouldn’t be thinking about Arthur’s tongue in his mouth, the press of Arthur’s chest to his.

There he goes again, reeling himself back to the present moment. His book sits in his lap and Gwaine gestures at the ceiling.

“I’m just saying I bet a lot more blokes at school are a little more gay than we think.”

“Maybe they experiment like you.” Maybe that’s what Arthur is doing. Maybe Arthur is just using Merlin to test out his curiosities. Merlin doesn’t like the idea of Arthur experimenting with him. He isn’t there to be some straight boy’s toe dip into homosexuality.

“Experimentation is just the first step,” Gwaine says knowledgeably. 

Merlin doesn’t agree or disagree and opens his book back up. He’d rather not contemplate the possibilities of experimentation.

*

Sitting across from Arthur at their usual table in the library, Merlin has been staring at the same page in his text for ten minutes. At least Arthur’s pen lies silent on his notebook.

Merlin has given Arthur a grammar book and instructed him to read it and then figure out what all the red marks on his paper mean.

Glancing up, Merlin watches Arthur for a moment, how Arthur rests his hand on his neck as he reads, eyebrows furrowed slightly. Merlin wonders how much Arthur reads, but he must if he does so well in his other courses. He doesn’t understand how Arthur can be so crap at Lit, but then again, Merlin is crap at maths.

“I can’t concentrate with you staring at me,” Arthur says after a moment without even lifting his gaze from the text.

“I wasn’t staring,” Merlin replies, but he feels the warmth on the back of his neck. 

“You certainly weren’t studying,” Arthur replies, looking up finally.

“I’m not the one who needs help.” He isn’t going to let Arthur turn this around on him. Not again.

For a moment, Arthur just watches Merlin, but then he glances around as though to make sure they’re alone. Merlin hasn’t seen anyone but the librarian for the last half hour, but he wouldn’t put it past someone to lurk in the aisles.

“About the other day,” he says, but Merlin shakes his head sharply and sits up straighter.

“I don’t want to talk about anything that happened. It didn’t happen. I am only here because Alice asked me to.”

“You stormed out of my house without even hearing me out.”

Merlin stares. He can’t believe this is happening again. Doesn’t Arthur know when to stop?

“ _You’re_ the one who turned it around,” he hisses across the table. “ _I_ kissed _you_? Complete bullocks! I don’t know why you feel the need to be such a prat all the time, but I can tell you that not everyone appreciates it.”

“Don’t storm out again,” Arthur says as Merlin slumps back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “You didn’t let me finish.”

“There’s nothing to finish. Nothing started. You are Arthur Pendragon, captain of the football team, all-around sport’s hero, and I am Merlin - not Marvin, thanks - the kid who got shoved into the mud every day last year because I said I liked blokes.”

Merlin doesn’t see what Arthur can possibly say to change any of that. 

Arthur leans forward slightly, arms resting on the table over the essay he clearly has no interest in correcting. “I was going to say, before you had your little episode, that I haven’t told anyone and I don’t plan to. And whoever started it, you or me, it doesn’t matter. What matters is what we do.”

Merlin frowns, eying Arthur, sure he’s going mad. “There’s nothing to _do_.”

Arthur pauses, and something knots in Merlin’s stomach at the tension filling the silence. Most of the time, he tries not to think of things he’d like to do with guys who are not gay. He especially tries not to think about doing them with people he doesn’t even like, like Arthur.

Arthur casts another glance around them, but the rest of the library is silent save for the squeaky librarian’s cart on the other side of the room.

“Come to mine tomorrow,” he says, lowering his voice. “I get out of practice ‘round six.”

Merlin’s first instinct is to say no. Definitely no. He never wants to go back to Arthur’s manor home filled with empty rooms, devoid of living things, too big for two people, let alone one.

Something in the way Arthur says it, though, without his usual bravado, leaning in close to keep the offer just between them, makes Merlin pause. What if he goes and it’s just a trap? What if Arthur is just playing with him again? What exactly are they going to do in Arthur’s big, empty house?

Merlin doesn’t know what it is, but he doesn’t say no. Instead, he says, “You’re mad,” and grabs his sack from the floor.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow,” Arthur says as Merlin walks away, and Merlin doesn’t stop to correct him, keeping his gaze forward and leaving the library.

*

Sometimes Merlin really wonders what is wrong with him, and he especially thinks it as he stands in front of Arthur’s house, having already rung the bell. There isn’t even any pretense of studying this time.

It takes Arthur a minute to answer the door, but he does finally, pulling it open and letting Merlin in without a word.

Uneasy, Merlin glances around the entrance hall, but it looks identical to the last time.

“Your dad’s not home?” he asks for lack of anything else to say.

“Business in Paris,” Arthur replies and shuts the door behind Merlin.

Great, Merlin thinks, keeping an eye on Arthur as he enters the sitting room.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing here in the first place. He hadn’t intended to come at all, but six o’clock had rolled around and Merlin had found his feet carrying him to Arthur’s house. 

“So,” he says finally, fiddling with the leather bracelet on his wrist. “Why am I here?”

Arthur’s eyes flick up under his sweep of blond hair and he moves over to the chair, setting his hands on the back as Merlin stays by the sofa.

“Because you wanted to come here,” Arthur says, and that’s not exactly the answer Merlin was looking for. “Because you’re curious. Because you want to know what I’m thinking.”

Merlin presses his lips together. “That’s not what I meant. Why did you ask me here?”

Arthur meets his eyes, and Merlin suppresses the urge to look away.

“I want to kiss you again.”

Merlin stares. No one has ever said it so bluntly to him, and he doesn’t understand why Arthur would.

“You really are mental,” he says, already heading for the door, but Arthur gets in his way.

“Do you ever listen to a whole idea before leaving?” Arthur asks, blocking Merlin’s escape, and Merlin huffs.

“That isn’t an idea.”

“Then what is it?”

Merlin casts around but he can’t seem to find words to describe how stupid it is, how stupid Arthur is. They can’t just snog again because Arthur wants to. Arthur must have some ulterior motive that just isn’t clear to Merlin yet.

“It’s stupid,” he says finally, unable to come up with anything else, and he knows it sounds lame when Arthur’s eyebrow goes up.

Arthur takes a step forward, closer to Merlin, and Merlin moves back automatically. “Look, Marvin, everyone knows you like snogging blokes and there’s no point in pretending that you don’t think I’m fit.”

“Do you just want me to write your essays, is that it?” Merlin asks desperately, though he can feel the flush crawling up the back of his neck at Arthur’s words, the implications behind them. 

Arthur sighs as though Merlin is being difficult on purpose. “I’m not into blackmail or having people do my work for me.”

Merlin crosses his arms, feeling his chest swelling nervously. “Then what’s your idea?”

Arthur looks pleased that Merlin is finally coming around, but Merlin wouldn’t call it coming around so much as trying to get the whole story.

“You help me with my essays, and in return, we snog.”

Merlin doesn’t know what that even means. “Is that supposed to be a thank you?”

“Be honest,” Arthur says, a knowing smirk on his face. “How many blokes have you actually been with?”

Merlin frowns. “A few,” he replies, annoyed. “More than you, I’m sure.”

Arthur almost laughs, as though he doesn’t quite believe Merlin. “Look at this as an opportunity.”

“For what? For you to gather even more fodder against me?”

“An experience.”

At that, Merlin draws himself up to his full height. “I’m not here for experience or experimentation. I’ve snogged a bloke. I’ve gotten a blow job. I—”

“Have you ever given one?

The question stops Merlin short, not because of what it contains but because of who is asking.

Arthur looks completely calm as he waits for Merlin’s answer.

Merlin’s mind flits back to the time last year when he and Gwaine took the train to London and went to a club. He remembers dark masses of bodies, swirling lights and alcohol that left his head reeling. He remembers some guy whose face he can’t see anymore in the back of an alley, the discomfort of the asphalt against his knees as he tasted the bloke’s cock for the first time.

“That’s not—” he says, but Arthur closes the distance between them, and Merlin can’t remember the end to his sentence.

“Have you ever shagged someone?”

Merlin swallows slowly, his heart pressing against his throat, and he feels like that moment at the party, in the bathroom, except there’s no alcohol on Arthur’s breath this time. There is no excuse for the lack of space between them.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks finally, voice shaky.

Arthur looks him up and down, and Merlin feels his soft exhale against his jaw. “Why do you have to ask so many questions?”

“I just want to know.”

Merlin jumps as Arthur lifts a hand to his face, tracing the curve of his jaw, eyes following the movement and then lifting his gaze to Merlin. 

“I just want to do it,” he says finally. “Does there have to be a reason for everything?”

Merlin would say yes, but Arthur’s mouth presses to his and he can’t think anything beyond remembering to breathe.

Merlin stumbles back a step, knocking into a table, and Arthur follows, opening his mouth to press more firmly against Merlin’s.

“I’m getting into Oxford,” Arthur says, practically breathes the words into Merlin’s mouth, and Merlin can’t move backwards anymore with Arthur’s hand sliding around to his lower back and keeping him there. “What are you getting out of it?”

“Stress mostly,” Merlin replies, mumbles as he struggles to catch up. His mouth tingles where Arthur’s has touched it.

Arthur laughs quietly. “If that’s all you’re getting, you’re doing it wrong.”

Merlin opens his mouth to argue, but Arthur cuts him off, tongue in his mouth and his hand firm on his back. 

He should stop it, Merlin thinks as Arthur’s tongue curls in against his, and he feels himself kissing back, breath hitching when Arthur’s fingers graze under the waist of his shirt. He should stop it right now, but instead, he closes his eyes and fits his lips in against Arthur’s.

Over the years, since way back in year seven when Merlin first came to this town and knew no one and had seen Arthur from across the lawn, he’s appreciated Arthur from a purely aesthetic point of view. Every girl in school thinks he’s gorgeous. Merlin isn’t blind, after all. The thing that kept him from developing a hopeless crush on Arthur was the fact that Arthur was a prat in every sense of the word.

The last couple years, Merlin has done a fairly good job of pretending Arthur doesn’t even exist, and Arthur’s done a bang up job of it as well. In fact, Merlin is pretty sure Arthur _didn’t_ know he existed until a few weeks ago.

But now, with Arthur’s tongue sliding along his bottom lip, lips ghosting over his, the flutter of warm breath against his skin, Merlin can admit that maybe he’s sneaked a peek at Arthur over the years. His heart climbs into his throat as Arthur nudges at his nose slowly, bringing their mouths together again.

Merlin’s hand clasps around the back of Arthur’s neck before he realizes, digging into his skin and gasping when Arthur jerks him in closer.

He has snogged boys before, but never anyone like Arthur who he generally wants to snap at. Never anyone that has made his heart pound in his throat, makes his body feel weak, as though he would let Arthur do anything he wanted right now.

The thought scares him a little, but when he tries to pull back, Arthur only slides to his throat instead. Merlin can feel his resolve slipping, draining away with the hot, wet suction of Arthur’s lips along the tendons of his neck.

“Arthur,” he says, intending to follow up with ‘Stop’ or ‘Don’t’ but he never gets that far. His hand slips to Arthur’s shoulder and digs in as he sucks in a sharp breath as Arthur’s tongue lavishes attention to his neck. He wonders vaguely if Arthur has done this before, and why hasn’t he asked that question yet?

Arthur’s hand settles at his lower back, thumb grazing over his skin, and Merlin feels hot all over. He registers that they’re standing in the middle of the sitting room, but Arthur has said they’re alone.

The flush crawls into his cheeks, and he pushes at Arthur’s shoulders at the rushing heat that travels straight to his cock. He cannot be getting hard because of Arthur. Not the prat that wants to snog him just so he’ll have some kind of reciprocation for helping with his essays.

Arthur takes the way Merlin nudges him away as an invitation back to his mouth, fitting his bottom lip against Merlin’s upper and sucking.

Merlin isn’t sure how it happens, but somehow between thinking he needs to stop this and moaning into Arthur’s mouth, they end up vertical on the sofa, Merlin squashed by Arthur’s considerably bigger mass.

Pushing at the leather, Merlin wriggles back so he’s not completely trapped under Arthur, and he blushes at the press of Arthur’s hips against his, the way Arthur doesn’t even hesitate to capture his mouth, long and hard this time, shifting on top of him. His knees sink into the sofa on either side of Merlin, thighs bracketing Merlin’s hips.

Merlin shares Arthur’s exhaled breath as their lips part for barely a second, heat passing between them, and mouths collide again. Merlin meets Arthur’s tongue in a mindless dance that he doesn’t even care to control. He has never snogged anyone like this, with reckless abandon, lips pressing over skin, dragging against chins and jaws, the flicker of a tongue against his own and then the pressure of teeth on his bottom lip.

Heat rushes high in his cheeks and his hands find their way into Arthur’s hair as he follows the dip of Arthur’s mouth.

Merlin pants for breath when Arthur pulls back, brushing his mouth down his neck, licking behind his ear and sucking on the skin until it throbs, and Merlin barely registers that there will be a mark. He doesn’t register anything but the throbbing warmth in his body, not until Arthur shifts, leveraging his body down and Merlin’s erection is suddenly very obvious.

Merlin’s petrified gasp is drowned out by a slamming door, and Merlin didn’t think Arthur could move so fast, but Arthur is up and off Merlin in half a second.

“I thought you said your dad was gone,” Merlin hisses, scooting off the couch and hastily patting at his hair, but it’s stuck up in the back.

“He is,” Arthur replies, holding up a hand to stop Merlin talking. “Just shut up.”

Arthur steps into the hall to greet whoever it is, and Merlin hovers nervously behind the door, straining with all his might to listen in. His heart, which was beating fast before, is now hammering in his chest as though he’s about to have a heart attack. 

Things come into sharper focus, though, as he stands there. He’s just been snogging Arthur. _Arthur_. What was he thinking?”

“Morgana,” he hears Arthur say and pushes away any of the panicked thoughts now filling his head. “Don’t you know how to knock?”

He says it so sure of himself, confident as though he doesn’t have Merlin hiding in the sitting room.

“I have a key,” Morgana replies, just as dryly as Arthur. Maybe it’s a family trait.

“What do you want?”

A pause follows the question, and Merlin inches closer to the door. He doesn’t dare peek out the crack, but he can’t stand the silence.

“Who’s behind the door, Arthur?” Morgana asks, and Merlin feels something ice cold drop into his stomach.

“No one,” Arthur says, but Merlin is already searching out places to hide. There aren’t many except maybe behind the drapes, but that would be the first place anyone looked.

Morgana scoffs. “I know when you’ve been snogged,” she says obviously. “You get that dopey look all over your face, plus you’re wearing your favorite shirt and it’s mussed. So who is it? Do I know h—”

“Morgana,” Arthur interrupts sharply. “Did you come here to make accusations or do you actually want something?”

“I want many things,” Morgana drawls. “Most of which you can’t give me.” She sighs. “I merely came by to inquire about your attendance this weekend? You’re not going to invite Gwen again, are you?”

Another party, Merlin thinks, rolling his eyes. There is a party nearly every weekend, most of which he hasn’t been invited to, and honestly, after the last time, he’s glad not to be.

“I didn’t invite her.”

“You invited her best friend, and by extension her. I don’t know what your little obsession is with this boy, but it better not mean more awkward meetings at parties.”

“It’s not my fault you turned into a bitch and pushed away all your friends,” Arthur replies, as though they’ve had this discussion before. “I can invite whoever I want.”

“Yes, I know who you want to invite,” Morgana sneers. “Just don’t be stupid about it.”

Merlin peeks through the crack finally, gathering enough courage. He can just barely see Morgana standing near the door, a hip cocked to the side. Arthur’s back is to Merlin, but he can tell he’s crossing his arms, shoulders squared and tense.

“If that’s all,” Arthur says, taking a step towards the door and opening it. “I have studying to do.”

Morgana shoots him a look but rolls her eyes as she turns.

“I expect to see you there, sans Gwen!”

Arthur shuts the door too hard behind her and the pictures rattle on the walls. For a moment, Arthur merely stands in the entrance hall, and Merlin isn’t sure what he should do.

Finally, he opens the door and steps out.

“I’m gonna go,” he says, and Arthur stirs to life, turning back towards him and frowning as though he’d forgotten he was there.

“Right,” he agrees, though, too easily, but Merlin is grateful.

He honestly doesn’t know what he was thinking, snogging Arthur, but hopefully they’ll be able to forget about the whole thing.

He inches past Arthur to the door. “I, uh, I’ll see you,” he says awkwardly, reaching for the knob. 

For a second, it seems as though Arthur is going to say something, but Merlin yanks open the door and leaves before he can.

As he walks home in the slushy snow that settles on the back of his neck, Merlin pulls out his phone and texts Gwen.

 _Want to do movies at mine on Friday?_ he sends.

This way, if Arthur does do something like invite him to the party, Merlin will have an excuse.

 _I’ll bring the sweets,_ Gwen replies, and Merlin shoves the phone in his pocket and trudges towards home.

*

Arthur doesn’t ask him. In fact, Arthur hardly talks to him all week, saying he has training and can’t work on his essays. It shouldn’t bother him that Arthur doesn’t invite him to the party. After the last time, he is glad not to go, but still he wonders what Morgana had meant.

On the other hand, he’s glad not to have to be alone with Arthur, not when he can’t stop thinking about the other day in his living room. What might have happened if Morgana hadn’t interrupted? How far would they have gone? The thought makes him nervous because he doesn’t know the answer.

The next day, he’d worn a scarf to cover the obvious mark on his neck, but it couldn’t hide the one behind his ear. Gwen hadn’t noticed, and Gwaine had had the good grace not to point it out in front of everyone, though how he held back, Merlin still hasn’t figured it out. Gwaine is not known for being tactful.

By the time Friday rolls around, Merlin has convinced himself that whatever “deal” he and Arthur made, it won’t be acted upon on the future. The snogging thing was just a fluke. It was just Arthur being… horny or bored. Merlin doesn’t know.

At least Arthur has kept his word and not told anyone. At least Merlin is safe in that respect.

Still, Friday night finds him, Gwen, and Gwaine sprawled over his living room, surrounded by popcorn and sweets, watching some mindless action film.

“Where’s Freya tonight?” Gwen asks Gwaine, and he looks up from his spot on the floor. 

“Dunno. Not my girlfriend, is she?” Gwaine ignores Gwen’s frown. “Looked like the dragon lady was having another party tonight. Saw it on my way over.”

The dragon lady is Morgana, and Merlin doesn’t want to discuss her parties.

“We could crash it.”

“No,” Merlin says sharply, colouring when both Gwen and Gwaine look at him. “I mean, it wasn’t that good last time.”

“I’m with Merlin,” Gwen says, and Merlin shies away from Gwaine’s eyes. “Besides, I don’t fancy having to avoid Morgana for a whole night.”

“Was she always so…” Merlin trails off, trying to find the right word, but it doesn’t come and Gwen seems to understand anyway.

“She used to be really sweet,” she says sadly. “Then in year seven, right before you moved here, her mum told her who her dad was. She’d always thought he died when she was young, but it turns out her dad is Uther Pendragon.”

“Arthur’s father?” Merlin’s eyebrows go up and even Gwaine looks interested.

Gwen nods. “They’re half-siblings. Morgana doesn’t tell people. She was so upset and Uther refused to acknowledge her as his daughter.”

Merlin doesn’t know what to make of that. “But she and Arthur are friends… sort of.”

Gwen shrugs. “I don’t know. She stopped talking to me not long after. She got distant, angry. I don’t blame her. I just wish it hadn’t happened.”

“Why would Arthur’s dad do that?”

“The Pendragons are a very old family,” Gwen says seriously as though Merlin should know this. “I imagine he thought he had to keep up appearances. He’s never home. He’s always gone on business. It’s amazing Arthur has grown up as well-adjusted as he has.”

Merlin wouldn’t say well-adjusted, but he doesn’t argue with Gwen. 

“That is one fucked-up family,” Gwaine comments profoundly. 

Gwen grabs a handful of popcorn. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to be Arthur. So many expectations, so much pressure, and his dad isn’t even there half the time. He handles it well.”

Merlin says nothing. Maybe this is what Alice meant. It doesn’t change anything, though. After all, Arthur is still a wanker.

“So is that a no on crashing the party?” Gwaine asks finally, and Gwen shoots him a look.

“It’s a no.”

“Then I say we break into the liquor cabinet and have our own party.”

Merlin doesn’t disagree, nor does he try to stop Gwaine as he gets up to find what little alcohol Merlin’s mum keeps in the house. He wouldn’t say no to a drink right about now.

*

Rain splatters the windows of the library and Merlin checks his watch for the third time in the last ten minutes. The seat across from him remains empty and Arthur is nowhere to be found. For a moment, Merlin thinks about texting, but then he realizes he doesn’t even have Arthur’s phone number.

Finally, Merlin snaps his book shut and shoves it in his sack. He could be spending his time somewhere else.

Leaving the library and stepping into the downpour, he intends to head straight home. He can already feel the sleeves of his jacket soaking with water.

As he crosses the quad, though, a door bursts open and Leon passes Merlin without even noticing him. 

“Hey, wait up!” he calls, jogging after a group of people that must be the rest of the football team. 

“Where’s Arthur?” someone asks, and Leon shrugs as he reaches them and they keep walking. 

“He said to go ahead. He’s covered in mud.”

The guys don’t give a second thought to hurrying away in the wind slamming rain into their backs, but Merlin pauses. Water drips from his hair onto his cheeks as he glances at the gym door.

He’s going to be soaked through in about two minutes if he doesn’t get inside or go home. He isn’t sure what makes him do it, but he checks that the team is gone and then ducks in through the door.

Inside, the gym is large and empty, and Merlin crosses over to the locker rooms. Most of the time, he avoids the locker room, but this time, he pushes open the door cautiously and steps inside.

Rows of grey lockers line the small room, each aisle empty except for long benches. At the far end, he hears what sounds like the shower, and he drops his bag on a bench as he approaches cautiously.

He isn’t sure why he’s there, why he didn’t just go home. 

Rounding the corner, he comes upon the row of showers, showers he has avoided for the past year and a half, and he finds himself face to, well, not face, with Arthur.

Arthur stands with his back to Merlin, head bowed in the flow of water, and Merlin can’t help staring. Arthur’s body is perfect, he think stupidly, a flush already rising in his cheeks as he can’t stop himself from looking at Arthur’s bare ass.

He shouldn’t just stand there, he tells himself firmly. He shouldn’t be a creepy voyeur, but he can’t force himself to turn, not even when Arthur turns to grab the soap.

Arthur stops with his hand outstretched as his eyes fall on Merlin.

Merlin’s throat immediately closes up in panic and he tries to think of some viable excuse as to why he’s creepily staring at Arthur in the shower. 

“I—” he says jerkily, unable to come up with anything past that. “I waited. In the library.”

Arthur blinks and he doesn’t bother to cover himself up, though Merlin looks pointedly anywhere but the V at his hips. Instead, he stares at the tiled wall.

He shouldn’t have done this, he thinks desperately, but now he can’t think of a way to leave graciously. Now he’s going to have the image of Arthur’s perfectly-shaped ass in his mind for the rest of forever. To his horror, he feels an uncontrollable rush of heat spreading to his cock at the thought. Not now! Of all the times.

Arthur takes a step towards Merlin, out from under the spray of the shower, and Merlin winces. This is not going to be good.

Merlin flinches when Arthur reaches for him, but he’s surprised as Arthur pushes off his jacket.

“What—” he says, but Arthur yanks his tie open and drops it into the floor. 

Arthur doesn’t say a word as he gets the buttons undone on Merlin’s school shirt and shoves it off.

“Arthur,” Merlin says again, nervously, and he jumps when Arthur reaches for his trousers, painfully aware of his erection that he can’t seem to make go away, not with Arthur so close, dripping wet, completely naked, and as he looks down to stop Arthur, he catches sight of Arthur’s prick.

It isn’t that Merlin hasn’t seen another bloke’s prick before, but not Arthur’s. It isn’t hard, but it’s thick and shaped nicely, Merlin finds himself thinking, not even realizing that Arthur has his trousers down, pooled around his ankles. He slips out of his shoes awkwardly, unsure what to do.

Arthur’s eyes travel over Merlin’s stomach, to his cock that is unabashedly hard. There’s no way Merlin can hide it. 

They are entirely too exposed in the locker room, and if anyone comes back—

Merlin doesn’t get the chance to finish his thought when Arthur grabs him by the waist and pulls him into the shower. His back hits the cold tile with a thud and he sucks in a surprised breath.

He has never been in this position before, naked in a shower with another boy, and his heart pounds in his chest, the noise of rushing blood drowned out by the water from the shower head hitting the floor.

Still, Arthur says nothing, eyes flickering all over Merlin’s body, from his cock to his chest to his face. It makes Merlin nervous, but he doesn’t know what to say either, and he’s almost relieved when Arthur kisses him.

Bracketing Merlin’s face with his hands, Arthur angles his head to kiss him deeper, harder, faster. He doesn’t waste time easing him into anything. Maybe they don’t have time. Anyone could walk in and see.

Despite the warmth of the shower, it’s chilly where Merlin is pressed up against the wall, but when Arthur moves, _slides_ in against him, their bare thighs touching, Merlin gasps, breaking the kiss with a smack. His head immediately ducks down, staring at the way their bodies align, but Arthur’s finger hooked under his chin brings his mouth back up only to be lost in the slide of Arthur’s tongue, licking over his bottom lip, sliding along his teeth and over the roof of his mouth.

Arthur’s other hand, slippery and wet, grazes down his stomach, stroking along his hip bone. Merlin shivers in response, panting when Arthur’s mouth slides away for a second, but it’s back, biting at his lips, as though desperate to feel him, kisses hungry and hard. They make Merlin’s head feel light, dizzying as he works to keep up, doesn’t even fight it.

His skin burns with every touch of Arthur’s hand, and he doesn’t know what to do with his own. They come to rest on Arthur’s waist, tentative as they glide against bare skin, soft and smooth.

Arthur groans into his mouth, a low rumble that sets Merlin on edge, wanting more for the first time, wanting to feel more of Arthur. Arthur’s leg in between his moves, and then Arthur’s hand follows, dragging down, settling on his inner thigh and moving upward.

A hot flush spreads through Merlin, completely unrelated to the steam coming off the shower, following the drag of Arthur’s fingers. He’s glad when Arthur pulls away from his mouth so he can gulp down air, but Arthur’s mouth drops to his collarbone, laving it with his tongue as he presses in and his hand curls around Merlin’s cock.

Merlin’s eyes widen and he may or may not squeak. He won’t own up to it, at least, and Arthur doesn’t laugh at him.

Arthur’s mouth leaves a red mark on his collarbone, and Merlin bites his lip against the heat in his cock, jumping when Arthur strokes him, water adding to the friction.

As much as Merlin tries to pretend he’s experienced, he’s still only seventeen (eighteen in a month), and he hasn’t had too many hands other than his own on his cock. The last was Gwaine, but that had been awkward and weird and they had laughed about it afterward.

This is Arthur, though, the fittest boy in his year, and really, the whole school, wrapping his large, warm hand around his prick and jerking him off. This is not something Merlin ever expected to happen, which may be why he lets it. That and it feels so fucking incredible as Arthur twists his wrist at just the right time, squeezes and slides over his cock.

Merlin’s legs shake, and his hand presses into Arthur’s shoulder now to keep himself upright, fingernails digging into his skin.

Arthur says nothing, pressing closer, and Merlin feels his erection now, hard and hot against his thigh. He should say something, but he can’t find any words. He can’t seem to do anything but let his brain become a babbling mess inside his head.

“Oh shit,” Merlin gasps when Arthur shifts, hand wrapping around both of their cocks and they rub together.

Any resolve Merlin might have had to stop this disappears at the rough slide of Arthur’s cock against his, Arthur’s hand rubbing them off together. 

Arthur surges forward, attacking Merlin’s mouth, teeth knocking painfully as they struggle to find the right angle. Too many lips, tongues, wet and hot and hard, smashed together under the steam of the shower, the hiss of the water against the floor.

It’s all too much, the stroke of Arthur’s hand, the friction of his prick against Arthur’s, the hot water dripping down his stomach, Arthur’s mouth closed over his, stealing his breath away. 

He breaks the kiss sharply with a shaky moan, a gasped breath and then a gritted exhale as the knot in his stomach coils and explodes.

He comes hard, hot cum spilling over Arthur’s fingers, and Arthur merely groans in response, stroking roughly and slamming his hand to the wall behind Merlin’s head.

Merlin’s eyes close as he breathes out heavily, swallowing tightly. His cocks jumps as Arthur releases it finally, sensitive and soft. He doesn’t expect Arthur’s hand to reach for the back of his neck and pull him in for a long, hard kiss, but then Arthur pulls back, panting into Merlin’s mouth.

Opening his eyes, Merlin glances down at Arthur’s hand working over his cock quickly, leaning in against Merlin, and he watches in slight fascination as Arthur comes. His toes curl as he feels the hot wetness against his inner thigh. 

A light flush covers Arthur’s cheeks, spread over the the bridge of his nose, and Merlin has never seen him like this. Water clings to Arthur’s eyelashes as he raises his gaze to Merlin finally. 

“Practice ran late,” Arthur says, and Merlin blinks stupidly.

“Huh?”

Arthur licks his lips and lets out a breath, stepping back and letting Merlin away from the wall finally. Merlin steps fully into the shower, washing away the evidence of Arthur’s release on his skin. 

“That’s why I wasn’t at the library.”

“Oh.” Merlin finishes washing off and steps out of the shower, feeling awkward again now that Arthur isn’t kissing him. He grabs a towel from the basket and hastily dries off, feeling exposed.

He pulls on his trousers and then grabs his shirt from the floor. His mother will have a field day with all the wrinkles. He doesn’t bother with the tie and stuffs it into his pocket as he turns back to Arthur.

Arthur has merely tied the towel around his waist and finally turned off the water. The silence is broken only by the slow drip from the shower head.

“Tomorrow,” Arthur says finally, passing Merlin to his locker. “We can work on the essay then.”

He sounds completely casual, and Merlin doesn’t know what else to say, so he just shrugs.

“Okay, sure.”

Arthur doesn’t look at him again, and Merlin leaves, edging awkwardly past him and grabbing his bag from where he’d dropped it earlier. Outside, it’s still pouring down rain, and when he gets home, his mother is chopping vegetables in the kitchen.

“Wet, isn’t it?” she asks brightly.

Merlin barely nods and disappears to his room before she can say anything else.

*

Merlin picks at his lunch, uninterested in eating, and only half-listening to what Freya is telling Gwen about what happened on some television show the night before. Merlin’s gaze, however, is focused across the room where Arthur sits next to Percy. 

“I can’t believe they did that to her character,” Merlin hears Freya say, but he doesn’t actually pay attention until Gwaine leans over and slides a hand to his neck, giving it a squeeze.

“A little obvious, mate,” he murmurs, and Merlin looks away from Arthur just as Arthur’s eyes meet his.

He shakes his head at Gwaine, whose hand doesn’t move. Merlin is used to it by now. Gwaine is a hand-on kind of guy.

“I’m not doing anything.”

Gwaine smirks and shakes him lightly. “Right.”

Honestly, Merlin doesn’t know what he’s doing. He can’t get the other day in the shower out of his mind, and Arthur hasn’t said anything about it. Arthur hasn’t said much of anything lately which should make Merlin happy, but instead, it makes him nervous.

He really isn’t sure what kind of _deal_ he and Arthur have struck, if any, and he fears the consequences if it ever gets out. 

“Really,” Merlin assures him, and Gwaine pulls him into a one-harmed hug and presses a kiss to the top of his head despite Merlin’s indignant squawk. He really doesn’t need Gwaine adding fuel to the jocks’ fire.

“Okay,” Gwaine agrees cheerfully, and Merlin struggles out of his grip. 

Across the table, Gwen and Freya have both chosen to ignore them, continuing with their discussion.

Merlin can’t help checking to see if Arthur is looking, but he’s not. Instead, he seems deeply absorbed in conversation with Leon, but he’s got a fork squeezed in his hand tightly, and Merlin isn’t sure whether he imagines the feeling that Arthur is deliberately ignoring him or not.

*

Merlin can feel Arthur’s eyes on him across the table, but every time he looks up, Arthur is scribbling in his notebook.

Frowning, he flips the page in his textbook and keeps reading. 

“That Gwaine bloke,” Arthur says finally, after ten minutes of silence.

Merlin pauses in reading, eyebrows furrowing.

“What about him?”

“He’s not gay.”

Arthur says it as a statement, not as a question, and Merlin isn’t sure what to say.

“He would say he’s a friend to all,” he replies. 

Arthur watches Merlin for a long moment, long enough that Merlin shifts uncomfortably. 

“Have you and he ever…” Arthur trails away obviously.

“Um, yeah, sort of, a couple times.”

A flush rises on the back of his neck, though Merlin isn’t sure it’s due to embarrassment or something else. As he watches, Arthur narrows his eyes slightly and sits back.

“I thought he was shagging that brunette.”

“Freya? Sometimes, yeah.”

“Didn’t you date her?”

“Er, yeah,” Merlin says, surprised that Arthur knows about that. 

“Does Gwaine just sleep with anyone?” Arthur says it with his arms crossed over his chest, a hint of annoyance in his voice that Merlin can’t work out.

“No,” Merlin says with a small laugh. “Gwaine’s a great guy. He’s my best friend after Gwen.”

Even as he says it, he feels a tiny twist of guilt. He hasn’t told Gwen about Arthur, and he hasn’t even told Gwaine the whole story yet.

“Why does it matter?” Merlin asks, and Arthur shakes his head, dropping his arms from across his chest.

“Doesn’t.”

“Then why’d you ask?” Most people don’t ask about Gwaine. Most people just give Gwaine a free pass on account of his rugged good looks.

Arthur shrugs, pulling his notebook towards him. “Just curious. Am I not allowed to ask questions?”

“I guess.” Merlin doesn’t know what to say. “It’s just, I don’t know why you would ask unless you were—”

He stops himself abruptly.

“What?”

He was going to say ‘jealous’ but that is a ridiculous notion.

“Nothing,” he says instead, sitting up straighter. “We should get back to work.”

Arthur frowns at him for a second, but then he goes back to his notebook and Merlin lets out a breath.

*

Do people actually think he is sleeping with Gwaine? Merlin wonders as he sits on the bench in gym class, staring at the clock on the wall rather than the rest of his class running laps. He wonders if he can make it through the whole year without ever having to participate.

For as long as he’s known Gwaine, they’ve been close. Merlin never thinks a thing of the way Gwaine likes to get close, whisper in his ear, touch him. It’s all just friendly. He’s never really thought what it looks like to other people, though. Most probably assume they’re doing something behind closed doors since it’s no secret that Merlin is gay, and Gwaine doesn’t bother to hide anything he does.

Merlin sits, lost in thought, and he doesn’t even notice when the teacher dismisses the class. It hardly matters since he doesn’t have to change, but it’s his last class of the day. He has no other plans except to go home and catch up on the latest episode of _Skins_.

It isn’t until the door to the locker room bangs open and blokes from the football team pour in that he notices the time. Blinking, Merlin looks around. He doesn’t want to be here with Arthur, so he hastily packs up the book he hasn’t been reading for the past half hour and climbs off the bench.

As he crosses the floor, he keeps his head down, hoping to make it out unnoticed.

Keeping his head down means he doesn’t see Arthur break from the group and jog over.

“Hey,” Arthur says from behind him just as Merlin reaches the door.

“Oh, hi,” Merlin says slowly. So close. “I was just leaving. I have gym last.”

Arthur looks him up and down, a skeptical dip to his eyebrow. “Are you sick?”

Merlin doesn’t understand for a moment until he realizes. “No. No. I don’t normally do gym. The running and sports. I just, I’m not good at it. And the locker rooms are kind of torture so I’ve sat out most of the year.”

“You sit out because of the locker rooms?”

“Well, the people in the locker rooms. This way I don’t have hear the names they call me or get shoved into walls anymore. A lot less bruising this year.” He’s babbling, and he can’t seem to stop himself, but it’s making him nervous with Arthur standing there and the whole football team behind him.

Arthur’s eyebrows come together as he frowns, and Merlin feels stupid for saying so much.

“I have to go,” he says instead, reaching for the door.

“There’s a party on Friday,” Arthur says before Merlin can get it open.

Merlin laughs. “I’m not going.”

No way is he ever going to another of Morgana’s parties.

“I wasn’t going to invite you.”

“Oh. Right.” 

“You should come to my house instead.”

Merlin doesn’t know what to say. A few people from the team are still watching them, and he wishes he could just escape. “Why?”

Arthur shrugs. “Studying?” The look in his eye tells Merlin it won’t be just studying, though.

“Arthur!” Leon calls, and Arthur waves a hand at him but keeps his gaze on Merlin.

“Okay,” Merlin hears himself saying without actually thinking about it.

Arthur almost smiles, the corners of his mouth curling upwards as Merlin silently panics.

“Okay,” he agrees and turns, jogging back to the team.

Merlin turns jerkily, pushes open the door and shivers as he steps out into the bitter wind.

*

When Gwen asks what Merlin is doing this weekend, he lies and says his mum roped him into volunteering down at the hospital so he has to go to bed early on Friday. He feels bad about the way Gwen accepts his lie without question. He isn’t sure why he hasn’t told her, but it’s getting to be ridiculous.

It might be because he isn’t even sure what’s really going on. He and Arthur are definitely not in a relationship of any kind. They aren’t even fuck buddies as far as he can tell. Merlin just helps him with his essays and in return, Arthur thinks that mutual wanking is a good way to pay him back.

The pretense of studying doesn’t even cover what Merlin is doing when he shows up to Arthur’s house on Friday. He doesn’t even bother bringing his bag, and Arthur doesn’t seem surprised as he greets him at the door and shows him in.

Arthur shuts the door behind him and runs a hand through his hair as he leads the way down the hall, past the sitting room and to the kitchen.

“You want a drink?” he asks, but Merlin is too busy staring at the immaculate space, huge compared to his own, and it really shouldn’t surprise him anymore, but it still does.

“Uh, sure,” he says at length, frowning at kitchen gadgets that he has no idea what they do.

He isn’t paying attention as Arthur pulls some things out of the fridge and makes two drinks. When he takes a sip, though, he coughs at the burn of alcohol.

“What the hell is in this?”

“Gin,” Arthur replies, downing his whole glass in one go. “You want something else?”

“No, it’s fine.” Merlin eyes the glass but things are awkward enough without him making a fuss over drinks.

For a moment, it’s silent. Arthur makes himself another drink, and Merlin tries not to grimace as he finishes his.

When both their glasses are empty, Arthur sets them in the sink and meets Merlin’s eyes.

“Come on,” he says and leads the way out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Arthur’s room hasn’t changed since the last time Merlin was there, and he still feels slightly nervous as Arthur closes the door behind them.

“Won’t people notice?” he says abruptly, and Arthur shoots him a questioning look, heading to the blinds and shutting them as well. “That you’re not at the party?”

“I don’t go to every party,” Arthur replies, toeing off his shoes and nodding for Merlin to do the same.

“Why not?”

Merlin doesn’t know why he’s asking except to prolong the amount of time between now and whatever they are going to do.

Arthur shrugs. “They’re all the same. It can get tedious.”

Merlin wouldn’t know. And he really doesn’t care. He’s more concerned with the fact that Arthur only has on a thin teeshirt and a pair of worn jeans. Out of his uniform, Arthur really does look even better. Merlin, on the other hand, wears band tee shirts, skinny jeans, and puts too much gel in his hair. Not exactly attractive.

Arthur takes a step forward, though, and pulls Merlin’s tee shirt over his head before Merlin can do anything but stand there awkwardly. He shouldn’t feel so weird considering they’ve already seen each other naked, but it’s different this time. This time they’re completely alone with no chance of being interrupted, concealed in Arthur’s big, empty house. This time, Arthur talks to him as he removes his clothes.

“It can be tiring listening to Morgana and her group of hens.”

Merlin doesn’t reach for Arthur’s shirt although Arthur’s hands work the button to his jeans as they stand there.

“Gwen said she used to be nice,” he says for lack of anything better. He swallows the lump in his throat as Arthur pulls down the zipper on his jeans and pauses a second.

“She did, yeah,” he agrees but doesn’t elaborate. Hooking his fingers in Merlin’s belt loops, he pulls him over to the bed, walking backwards and turning him around so Merlin flops down.

Arthur’s bed is surprisingly soft, and it even looks as though Arthur bothered to make it look presentable this time. Merlin doesn’t want to think about what that means.

Arthur drops down on top of Merlin, knees on either side of his hips, and he finally strips off his own shirt.

Here is where Merlin should ask those questions bubbling up inside of him, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything when Arthur leans in and presses a kiss to his lips. It’s a light pressure at first, soft lips against Merlin’s, but then Arthur slides down, kissing his bottom lip with a flick of his tongue.

He feels Arthur’s warm breath against his skin as Arthur deepens the kisses and his hands slide up Merlin’s chest. A flush follows Arthur’s touch, and Merlin closes his eyes against the sweep of Arthur’s tongue in his mouth.

Underneath Arthur, he isn’t sure how far this is going to go, how far he’ll let it go. He definitely isn’t ready for everything just yet, and he doesn’t really want his first time to be with someone he barely knows and isn’t really involved with. 

Arthur never presses him, though, and through his jeans, Merlin feels the beginnings of Arthur’s erection grinding into his. 

Merlin is a teenage boy, though, so it doesn’t take much to get him hard, not with Arthur on top of him, rocking his hips down as he continues his assault of Merlin’s mouth. At least the last time, Arthur’s mark had been on his collarbone and easily hidden from Gwaine’s knowing smirk.

Arthur’s hands continue their exploration of Merlin’s chest, brushing over a nipple, and Merlin nearly squeaks at the pressure.

Pulling out of the kiss, Arthur raises an eyebrow, and Merlin can only blush in return. Cocking his head to the side, Arthur actually smirks before he drops down and his tongue circles the nipple.

Merlin has never told anyone about that particular spot for him, but Arthur has got it figured out.

“ _Oh_ ,” Merlin breathes, a hand coming up to the back of Arthur’s head as Arthur laves the nipple with his tongue and sucks until the skin is red. Merlin’s cock throbs in the confines of his jeans, but they’re slowly slipping down his hips as Arthur pushes in against him.

Raising his leg, Merlin hooks it around the back of Arthur’s thigh for a better angle, more friction that sends heat sparking all through his body. 

Arthur rubs his hands over Merlin’s chest, paying close attention to the nipples as he kisses down his sternum.

For a moment, Merlin thinks maybe Arthur is going to suck him off, but Arthur stops at the waist to his jeans and brings his hand to Merlin’s cock, cupping it through the fabric and nipping at his stomach with his teeth.

Merlin already feels lightheaded, but Arthur rubbing his prick and pressing kisses to his stomach makes him sigh, head falling with a thump onto the pillow.

He feels Arthur moving back up, Arthur’s breath hitting his jaw, his free hand sliding up his neck. Arthur’s nose brushes against his, something closer to affection that has Merlin’s heart thudding faster.

“You said you’ve given a blow job before?” Arthur asks, and he sounds out of breath, quiet, brushing the words against Merlin’s skin. He presses his nose against Merlin’s cheek, and Merlin opens his eyes.

“Once,” he says finally, nerves bundling in his stomach.

Arthur seeks out his mouth, a fumbled kiss that reminds Merlin that they are both teenagers and maybe Arthur isn’t as experienced as he’s always assumed.

“Will you?” Arthur pants, pulling back and licking his lips.

He’s so close that Merlin can see tiny flecks of silver in his blue eyes. Merlin feels hot all over, and the suggestion only increases his heart rate as all the things that could go wrong bombard his mind. He’s only done it once, and he doesn’t think he was very good at it.

“I wanna see you,” Arthur murmurs and brushes their lips together lightly. “ _Merlin_.”

It might be the use of his actual name that makes Merlin groan and flip them over. 

Arthur goes easily, rolling onto his back and gazing up as Merlin pauses.

Merlin should know what to do, and he does. It’s just, his fingers shake as he scoots down and pulls Arthur’s jeans open. He gets them undone and tugs them down Arthur’s thighs. This time, he’s free to look as much as he wants at Arthur’s prick, and it’s right before him, hard and red, the tip shiny with pre-cum. 

Swallowing, he pulls Arthur’s jeans off completely before trying to find the right position. It is much easier, he thinks, on a bed than in an alleyway. It feels a lot cleaner too.

He glances up to find Arthur watching him, pupils wide and dark, and it makes Merlin’s stomach twist. 

Moving down, Merlin goes slowly. Last time, it was all too rushed, too much movement that made Merlin choke. This time, he’s going to take his time.

He reaches for Arthur’s cock, stroking it once then twice. He doesn’t wait for approval from Arthur as he leans in and licks carefully at the tip. It tastes slightly bitter on his tongue, and Arthur’s prick is hot and heavy in his hand. Bracing himself, he circles his tongue over the thickness and sucks the tip lightly. He doesn’t want too much too fast.

Above him, Arthur groans softly, and Merlin takes it as encouragement.

He moves in deeper, but keeps hold of the base of Arthur’s cock to stop him from pushing up into his mouth. He read it somewhere online after the first disastrous time. It works, and Merlin can move in and out without choking himself.

Sucking, he runs his tongue along the length and listens to Arthur’s appreciative noises, the way Arthur’s hand glides over his shoulder. 

He never thought he would be here, sucking off Arthur Pendragon of all people. He had mostly hoped to make it through the year unnoticed.

Pulling away with a slightly obscene noise, Merlin licks his palms, one jerking Arthur off quickly for a moment and the other moving down to press against Arthur’s balls. He ducks down and licks one, just to see. He’s never done it before and no one’s ever done it to him, but judging from the way Arthur curses, he likes it.

His hand pulls on Arthur’s cock as he sucks a ball into his mouth and rolls it around on his tongue gently, pulling back and returning to his prick.

He presses Arthur’s hips back against the mattress as he takes him in further, sliding in until it’s difficult to breathe and he has to pull back. It’s strange, having Arthur’s cock in his mouth, but when Arthur lets out a shaky breath, a wave of pride surges through Merlin. He can really have that much control over someone else, someone like Arthur.

As he sucks Arthur off, he doesn’t feel as embarrassed as before. His own cock strains against his jeans now, throbbing as it reminds him how turned on he is. 

Arthur moves beneath him now, hips trying to push up, his hand grasping Merlin’s shoulder as Merlin moves faster, more confident.

“Shit,” Arthur gasps, pushing at Merlin. “I’m gonna - stop-”

Merlin pulls away immediately. He doesn’t think he’s ready to swallow. Instead, he nips at Arthur’s thigh and jerks him off, twisting his wrist as Arthur had that time in the shower, and he’s rewarded with a groan and Arthur coming with a jerk.

Come hits his chest, but he doesn’t care that much, slowing his hand movements and listening to the way Arthur sucks in his breaths. 

“Oh, fuck,” Arthur breathes a moment later, soft and tired.

Merlin pulls his hand away, reaching down to wipe it on Arthur’s jeans. His own jeans are far too tight around his erection as he drags himself up to Arthur’s eye level.

Arthur looks as though he might go to sleep, eyes closed, but then he glances at Merlin.

“Come here,” he says, reaching for Merlin’s belt loops and pulling him on top. He doesn’t waste time pushing his hand under Merlin’s jeans and wrapping it around his cock.

Arthur’s chest is hot and broad underneath him, and Merlin gasps as Arthur jerks him off quickly, not as finessed as he would expect, but he doesn’t care. He just wants to come, and Arthur can help him do that.

He presses his lips to Arthur’s, seemingly surprising Arthur, but Arthur responds easily, kissing him back and sliding his tongue in against Merlin’s.

His hand moves quickly, thumb dragging over the tip of Merlin’s prick and Merlin’s hips jerk forward. 

Merlin won’t last long at this rate, not as the flush colours his chest, along the tops of his shoulders and even spreading into his cheeks. He pants into Arthur’s mouth, not even a kiss anymore, just shared breath with the occasional pressure of lips.

He comes with curses mumbled into Arthur’s mouth, eyes fluttering shut as his hips rut forward. He can’t control them, pushing up into Arthur’s hand until he’s completely spent and doesn’t think he can even move as he slides down.

Arthur pulls his hand out after a second, and Merlin can feel the uncomfortable wet spot on his jeans. He wishes he had thought this through.

It takes Merlin a minute to realize he’s plastered to Arthur’s chest, and he rolls off when he does. Silence falls again, but it isn’t awkward this time. The room smells of sex and sweat, and Merlin should probably get going before his mother calls asking where he is.

“I should probably get home,” he says when no one speaks for several minutes and their breathing slows to a normal pace.

“Mmm,” Arthur hums tiredly next to him, as though he never wants to get up from the bed. “Or we could study some more.”

Merlin glances over, but Arthur’s eyes are closed, and he doesn’t like the way his chest tightens at the sight.

“I should go,” he says instead, climbing up from the bed. He grabs his shirt from the floor and pulls it over his head while Arthur sighs and pushes himself up to a sitting position.

“Guess I’ll see you in school,” Arthur says, and Merlin jerks his head.

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t know what else to say as he tugs his shoes on and hesitates.

“Bye.”

Arthur doesn’t reply and Merlin shows himself out.

*

It becomes a routine of sorts. Merlin attempts to help Arthur with his essays and Arthur reciprocates with snogging sessions and hand jobs.

Part of Merlin doesn’t know what any of it means, and he’s reached a point where he almost doesn’t care. So far, Arthur hasn’t done anything suspect like telling the whole football team about what they do behind closed doors. Merlin is fairly sure that the team thinks he’s just a skinny bookish bloke that Arthur is forced to work with.

It doesn’t matter to Merlin. What matters is that no one finds out and no one has any reason to shove him into lockers for somehow corrupting their golden boy which he knows will happen if they do.

So he keeps his head down, his mouth shut, and things seem to go okay.

He only feels guilty when Gwen asks how the studying is going, and he says fine and nothing else.

It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Gwen to keep it a secret, he just doesn’t know how to explain it. What is it that he and Arthur do exactly? Merlin corrects his essays, and Arthur sucks that spot behind his ear until Merlin complains about visible marks and pushes him down to his collarbone instead.

He can’t fool Gwaine so easily, but Gwaine has the good grace not to point out the marks on his neck that his scarf doesn’t quite cover. It will be spring soon, though, and he won’t have an excuse to wear a scarf. Instead, Gwaine shoots him sly, knowing looks over the lunch table and ambushes him on his way to the library after school.

“So tell me,” Gwaine says, latching onto Merlin’s shoulders and scaring the shit out of Merlin. Merlin jumps about a foot, and Gwaine ignores him. “Is it as good as I’m imagining?”

“What?” Merlin asks, shaking the jumbling nerves out of his fingertips as he crosses the quad to the stone steps of the library. 

“Shagging the captain of the football team,” Gwaine says obviously, a wry grin on his face even as Merlin shoots him a sharp look.

“Shut up!” He looks around quickly, but there’s no one around that he can see. Still, he can’t help the panicked feeling as Gwaine laughs, a bit too relaxed.

“So it’s true?”

“No,” Merlin mutters. “We’re not… you know.”

“But you are… you know.” Gwaine winks at him.

Merlin doesn’t know what they’re doing. He shakes his head. “I don’t know what we’re _you know_ , and I haven’t told Gwen and I feel like a right idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Gwaine assures him. “You’re a teenage bloke with desires and needs that must be met. However you find to meet them is your own business. Personally, I think you chose a great way. Couldn’t get much fitter than Arthur Pendragon.”

Merlin pulls open the door to the library, hoping that will stop Gwaine from talking, but Gwaine follows him in and barely drops his voice as they pass tables of people studying.

“You are gonna tell me how it’s going, yeah? How fit is he exactly? And how well-hu—”

Gwaine stops as they round the corner to find Arthur already sitting at the usual table. He looks up, almost smiles, but then his gaze lands on Gwaine and Gwaine’s arm around Merlin’s shoulder.

“You’re late,” Arthur says shortly, and Merlin wiggles out from under Gwaine’s arm, feeling suddenly self-conscious. 

“I was just…”

“It’s my fault,” Gwaine pipes in, although Merlin doubts he’ll be able to help anything if the way Arthur frowns at him is any indication. “I just had some burning questions.” He grins.

Arthur doesn’t return it. He taps his pen against the table and fixes Merlin with a stare. “I don’t have time to waste waiting for you to show up.”

Merlin frowns this time. “I’ve waited for you before.”

Arthur looks ruffled as he taps his pen again. “Are you done chatting? Or should I go?”

“I’ll go,” Gwaine says abruptly, squeezing Merlin’s shoulder, and Arthur’s eyes narrow. “Gotta meet Freya.”

Merlin almost doesn’t want Gwaine to leave him alone with Arthur, but Gwaine leaves before he can even form some kind of protest. Grimacing to himself, he turns back to Arthur, who looks less than amused.

Sitting down, Merlin drops his sack on the floor and pauses. 

“How’s your essay this week?” he asks at length, and Arthur glances at him, a haughty chin in the air, and Merlin doesn’t see what he has to be upset about. He’s already told Arthur that he and Gwaine are just friends, and it isn’t as though he and Arthur are anything other than confusing.

Arthur pulls the crumpled paper out from between the pages in his book. “Shit as always.”

“It’s not that bad,” Merlin mutters, perusing Alice’s comments. They’ve at least improved since the first essay. “At least your grammar has improved.”

Arthur scoffs out a laugh, and Merlin looks up carefully. Arthur’s expression has softened now that Gwaine is gone, and a hint of a smile even curves the side of his mouth.

“One small step,” he says, and Merlin actually laughs.

“It’s better than nothing.”

If anyone had told Merlin two months ago that he would be sitting across from Arthur and laughing, he would have said they were mental. Yet, here he is.

Arthur’s phone breaks the momentary silence, loud in the muffled library, and he hastily presses buttons to stop it.

“Who is it?” Merlin asks as Arthur shoves it away.

“Morgana. She just wants to know if I’m coming tonight.”

“Another party?”

Arthur shrugs. “It’s her way of rebelling. Her mum, well, she’s become a bit of a shut-in since her husband died and she spends a lot of time overseas in different spas. They have a butler at the house, but I think Morgana may have fired him.”

“How come she doesn’t just live with you? You’re all alone most of the time too.”

“My father…” Arthur trails away and shakes his head. “It’s not important. We’ll both be off to university next year anyway. Even if I completely fuck up my essay, I’ll still get in on football scholarship.”

Merlin frowns as Arthur says it. “Why are you working on your essays then?”

Arthur’s eyes widen for half a second, but then Merlin is sure he imagined it. 

“I don’t really want to go to the party,” Arthur says instead, leaning forward over the table. “It’s just going to be Morgana and her bitchy friends talking about everybody else all night.”

Merlin shifts slightly, and asks a question that he’s pretty sure he knows the answer to already.

“What are you going to do then?”

Arthur shrugs, eyes locked with Merlin’s. “Stay in. Order some take-away. Catch up on telly.”

“Sounds boring.”

“Sounds nice.”

It is pretty much what Merlin does every Saturday night, and he knows he doesn’t imagine the glint in Arthur’s eye, and he resolutely doesn’t jump when Arthur’s hand slides to his knee under the table. 

“I’ll be home all evening,” he says quietly,

Merlin swallows around the way his throat tightens in anticipation, the tingling in his leg spreading from where Arthur touches him. He doesn’t say anything, though, and hands Arthur back his essay.

“We can go over your mistakes,” he says, chancing a glance up as Arthur pulls his hand away and takes the essay. He catches Arthur’s smirk, though, and tamps down the excitement fluttering in his chest and tries to focus on work.

*

There isn’t much pretense anymore as Merlin climbs the stairs to Arthur’s bedroom and they shut the door behind them.

The awkwardness of the first few times is gone along with their shirts as they tumble into bed, Merlin on top, though that doesn’t last long.

Arthur rolls them over, sliding in a leg between Merlin’s and pushing their bodies together as their mouths meet. Arthur laughs as Merlin’s hands flutter over his back, pushing against his lower back and sneaking down to the curve of his ass.

Merlin finds himself smiling against Arthur’s mouth, letting out a soft groan. It’s strange how easy this has become, how easy it is to let his hands grip Arthur’s ass and drag him down harder. They still haven’t gone further than handjobs and the one blow job, but Merlin isn’t sure he wants to, not yet anyway.

There is something nice about how Arthur tilts his head to find the right angle to slide his tongue into Merlin’s mouth. He likes when Arthur’s fingers brush over his jaw, too soft to mean anything other than simply wanting to touch him. He likes the warmth that spreads from his stomach, down to his cock and up to his cheeks.

For a long time, they only kiss, until their lips are red and swollen and Merlin’s hands have tightened over Arthur’s ass and his hips push up.

Merlin can’t help staring at Arthur’s mouth when he pulls away, how he licks it slowly as he catches his breath and swallows.

“What?” he asks when Arthur pauses.

“Who gave you a blow job?” Arthur asks, and Merlin wants to roll his eyes. If this is about Gwaine, he’s going to leave.

He huffs slightly, moving his hands up to Arthur’s lower back. “Not Gwaine if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No,” Arthur says quietly, his eyes flickering over Merlin’s face. “How many have you had?”

Something tightens in Merlin’s chest as a flutter of nerves crawls through his stomach as he meets Arthur’s eyes. 

“One,” he says finally, forcing out the word, and he doesn’t know why it makes him so nervous. He isn’t as experienced as Arthur or as many of the other blokes in his year probably are. It isn’t as though there’s a lot of opportunity for him to get a lay as there is for the straight guys.

His only experiences come from Gwaine and a few forgettable nights in London that he sometimes wishes he hadn’t done.

Even Arthur looks nervous now as he nods and closes his mouth.

“Have you ever,” Merlin starts to ask, but he doesn’t finish as Arthur shakes his head. “You don’t have to.”

Arthur glances down Merlin’s torso and smiles slightly. “Like I said, you should get something out of this.”

Merlin doesn’t know how to tell Arthur that snogging is enough, well, too much really considering all he’s doing is telling Arthur how terrible his essays are.

He swallows down the nerves as Arthur moves, sliding down his body and pulling his jeans open.

The only other time he’s done this was a nameless bloke in some London club. Gwaine had been busy chatting up a girl in a corner and Merlin had let the guy buy him a drink. Somehow, he had ended up in a dark corner with his pants around his ankles. Afterward, he’d felt stupid and embarrassed that he’d let it happen with someone he didn’t even know. He hadn’t told Gwaine about it.

It’s different, though, with Arthur’s mouth gliding down his hipbone, hesitant in the way he touches Merlin, a flicker in the usual confident facade he wears constantly. 

He doesn’t expect the actual blow job to be much different, but he’s surprised when Arthur takes a steadying breath and moves in. The warm wetness surrounding his cock shoots straight through him, and despite the momentary fumble of Arthur, his unsure hands on his hips, it feels better than Merlin remembers.

His eyes close and he reaches for Arthur’s head, fingers pushing into his hair and trying not to grip too hard as Arthur’s tongue slides over his prick. Arthur sucks slowly, a tight pressure that makes Merlin bite his lip, gasp and exhale shakily a second later.

Though Arthur has clearly never done this before, that doesn’t stop Arthur from doing his best. Merlin would have thought that Arthur wouldn’t want to do this, that this would be too _gay_ , and since he is still fairly sure that Arthur only snogs him because he’s bored, he didn’t think Arthur would want to go this far.

“Oh,” Merlin gasps, mouth falling open at Arthur’s tongue sweeping over his cock, licking more than sucking, but it’s hot and wet and he doesn’t know how long he can hold on like this. The first time, he had come embarrassingly quickly, and he hopes not to repeat that with Arthur. 

It’s hard, though, as the heat rises on his skin and Arthur’s mouth slides down his prick, his hand jerking him off at the base. He tries to speak, but words are barely sounds on his tongue as he groans.

His hips jerk up into Arthur’s mouth, and Arthur pulls back abruptly and then presses Merlin’s hips down, smooths his thumbs along the skin and moves back in. He goes a little faster now, making a noise that reverberates through Merlin, and Merlin shudders in response.

“A-Arthur,” he pants, releasing Arthur’s hair, leaving it completely mussed, sticking up in odd places, but he reaches for the bed covers instead, fingers digging in as his whole body burns up.

He can’t hold on for much longer, not with Arthur’s hand squeezing his inner thigh as he takes him in as far as he can, too much heat and wetness that leaves Merlin dizzy, muttering incoherently and scrabbling for something to hold onto as his stomach tightens.

His hips push up, and Arthur slides back, jerking him off and flicking his tongue at the base of his cock, stroking him quickly, tight and fast until Merlin lets out an embarrassing noise and comes without warning.

Arthur’s mouth sucks on his inner thigh as Merlin groans, hips still pushing up into Arthur’s grip, riding out his climax until his whole body feels spent and he just wants to slide down into the softness of Arthur’s mattress and fall asleep.

Blinking tiredly, he wipes away the sheen of sweat on his forehead and Arthur drags himself up.

“Fuck,” Arthur mutters as he kisses Merlin, long and slow, and something other than lust flutters in Merlin’s chest.

“You weren’t half bad,” Merlin replies when Arthur pulls back, hands bracketing his face.

Arthur barely laughs. “Thanks.”

Merlin smiles, leaning into his mouth again, but a sharp knock on the door sends a jolt of panic through him.

Arthur’s eyes widen and his head swivels to the door.

“Arthur?” comes a deep voice through the wood, and Arthur scrambles up, grabbing Merlin’s jeans from the floor and shoving them at him.

Merlin doesn’t even bother to ask who it is as he struggles to get his jeans on before the knob to the door jiggles and turns. He barely gets them up and buttoned - not enough time to find his shirt on the floor - as the door opens and a tall, stern-looking man stands in the doorway.

“Dad,” Arthur says, drawing himself up, but there’s no hiding the fact that they’re both shirtless, and Arthur’s hair is sticking up messily.

This is how he’s going to die, Merlin thinks, and he barely reacts as Arthur grabs his shirt off the floor and tosses it at him. He manages the catch it, but clutches it in a bundle, too afraid to move.

Arthur’s father, Merlin can tell from a single glance, is not the kind who will laugh this off as a teenage gaff. 

“Arthur,” his father says in his deep, serious voice that sends a shiver down Merlin’s spine. “What is going on here?”

Arthur runs a hand through his mussed hair and glances at Merlin. One look tells Merlin to keep quiet. 

“This is Merlin. He’s been helping me with my essays.”

Merlin quails under the stern look he receives from Arthur’s father. 

“I thought we had this discussion,” he says firmly, turning his gaze back to Arthur, who determinedly doesn’t flinch. Merlin has to give him some credit. “After what happened last year with Valiant, I thought we’d put this aside.”

“We didn’t put anything aside,” Arthur says, shoulders tense, and Merlin just wants to get out of there alive. “You just decided to ignore it.”

“Enough!” It’s loud enough that Merlin jumps. “We don’t _need_ anymore problems in this family,” his father says. “You will stop seeing this _boy_ at once. If it gets out that you’re—”

“Does it matter?” Arthur interrupts sharply. 

“I don’t want my son being involved in bloody fist fights over things that should be kept private,” his father says, looming over the room, and Merlin cowers. He doesn’t want to be involved in this. He isn’t involved in this except for the fact that he’s just been caught with Arthur, and thank god it wasn’t Morgana who had, although he isn’t sure that Uther Pendragon is any better. “And I certainly don’t see the point of you rebelling with some boy you’ve obviously picked on a whim.”

Merlin is taken aback at that.

“If you wanted to hurt me, you didn’t have to be so obvious.”

Finally, Merlin jerks to life and pulls on his shirt. Arthur probably doesn’t even notice him now, but Merlin suddenly gets it. Suddenly, it all makes sense - why Arthur chose him, why Arthur pushed so hard to start something. It was all just to get back at his father for something, probably something stupid that Merlin wouldn’t understand because he’s just a scholarship kid who doesn’t understand the posh lifestyle.

It makes him angry, the anger overrunning the fear he feels of Uther. 

“Congratulations,” he says as he pushes past Arthur, ignoring Arthur’s confused expression. “You got what you wanted, and I finally figured it out. You’ll always be a tosser. And I’ll always be the one who gets shoved into lockers.”

He stomps past Uther and doesn’t look back the whole way out of the house and the whole way home.

*

“Merlin?”

Merlin stirs at his mother’s knock on the door but doesn’t answer.

The door creaks open anyway and Hunith pokes her head in, glancing around Merlin’s messy room and Merlin lying on his bed, fully clothed with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Everything alright?”

“Fine,” Merlin mutters. He really doesn’t want to get into this with his mother. He doesn’t want to talk about anything right now.

“Do you want some dinner?” she asks, and Merlin is grateful for her tact.

“I’m not hungry,” he says instead, though, and rolls over onto his side.

For a moment, his mother says nothing, but then Merlin hears the click of the door and he sighs.

He doesn’t want to think about anything, particularly Arthur and how he’s obviously been using Merlin for his own sick little purposes. He probably doesn’t even like Merlin in the least. He probably chose him because Merlin would have been the easiest target, the one most likely to piss off his father. Arthur Pendragon caught with a boy. Now that was sure to cause a scandal.

Merlin’s hands ball into fists but then he rubs his eyes with a tired sigh. He’s tired of waiting and wondering and trying to figure things out. It all makes perfect sense now, and if Merlin has his way, he’ll never speak to Arthur again.

*

On Monday, Merlin drags himself to school, dawdling so long that he misses the first bell and barely makes it to class. Gwen shoots him a worried look as he slides into his seat, but he doesn’t give her any answers. He doesn’t even know how to explain any of this.

He avoids his locker in case Arthur has decided to stalk him, and keeps his head down between classes.

In Lit class, he sits near the front with Gwen as usual, and he determinedly doesn’t look up when Arthur enters. He sees Arthur pause out of the corner of his eye, but then Arthur moves on to the back.

“Merlin?” Gwen asks before Alice begins the lesson. “Are you okay?”

Merlin hesitates. There’s really no reason to hide any of this from her, and he feels incredibly guilty at the concerned look on her face. 

“I-” he says, but Alice steps in front of the class.

“Good morning, everyone!”

“I’ll tell you after class,” Merlin mutters instead.

He barely pays attention at all, though, during the whole lesson. Instead, he spends most of it thinking about Arthur’s stupid face and that only makes him angrier so that by the time Alice dismisses them for lunch, Merlin can’t wait to get out of there and away from Arthur.

“Merlin,” Gwen says as he practically drags her from the room before she can even put away her book.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he says, veering away from the canteen and pushing open the front doors.

Luckily for him, the day isn’t gloomy or wet for once. A weak sunshine pushes through the clouds, and Gwen shivers in the lingering winter chill, but she doesn’t protest. Instead, she watches him curiously as they head towards the little tree grove around the back of the gym.

“What’s going on?” she asks, and Merlin sticks his hands in his pockets.

He sighs. “Gwen, I’ve been keeping a secret from you.”

Her eyebrows come together. “What?”

“You know how I’ve been helping Arthur?”

“Yeah.”

Merlin kicks at the ground as they reach the trees, stopping near a trunk. “It’s kind of been more than that.”

He meets Gwen’s confused stare, but after a second, she blinks as she seems to understand.

“Real-A-Arthur? Really?”

“Really.” Merlin nods.

For a moment, Gwen is silent, making disbelieving faces, but then she looks up at Merlin and smiles.

“Well, I’m happy for you.”

“No.” Merlin shakes his head. “Because it turns out he was using me to get back at his dad for something.”

“Oh.” Gwen frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? Turns out he was just a big a prat as I thought.”

Gwen shrugs. “I mean, if you liked him, it must have hurt.”

Merlin blinks stupidly. “I don’t like him.”

Gwen tucks a strand of curly hair behind her ear as she frowns. “You don’t?”

“No! He’s a complete wanker who used me for his own amusement. He probably doesn’t even need help on his essays. He was probably just faking so I would help him.”

“Are you sure that’s what happened?”

“I was there, Gwen!” he says, throwing up his hands. “His father basically said it, and Arthur didn’t deny it.”

“But what would Arthur want to get back at his father for?”

“I don’t know! Maybe he’s in league with Morgana. I don’t know how these people’s minds work!” Merlin huffs. “Why are you taking their side?”

Gwen shoots Merlin a look and he immediately feels bad. Gwen is his best friend, and it’s his fault for not telling her in the first place.

“I’m not. I’m just trying to understand. There could be circumstances we don’t know about. I mean, you don’t know Arthur very well. I’m sure it’s not easy with all the pressure he has to deal with. He has a lot of expectations on him.”

Merlin scowls, although he doesn’t know how to refute that. “Well, I’m not here to be his play thing.”

“I didn’t say you were. Just, maybe we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

“I know what I heard and I know what Arthur wanted from me. It’s over. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Then why are you so angry?”

“Were you not listening? Gwen, he used me!”

“You said it doesn’t matter. You said you don’t like him. If that’s true, why are you angry?”

“I’m allowed to be angry!”

Gwen nods. “You are. I just want to know why.”

“Because—” Merlin stops himself. He doesn’t actually have an answer. If he didn’t like Arthur, it shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t give him a pit in his stomach whenever he thinks of Arthur. It shouldn’t hurt when he thinks about being used like a tool in a dastardly plot.

It can’t be. It can’t be possible, Merlin thinks as he stands there in the cold wind biting at the back of his neck. He can’t actually have feelings for Arthur, that clotpole. He has always found Arthur pompous and annoying and loud. He can’t _fancy_ Arthur. It’s simply not possible.

Gwen gives him a sad but knowing smile as Merlin stares unseeingly towards the front door of the school. 

“No,” he says finally, shaking his head. “No. I can’t fancy Arthur.”

Gwen tries not to laugh at Merlin’s mortification as it hits him all at once. He _does_ fancy Arthur.

“You can. Lots of people do.”

“No.” Merlin flatly refuses. “After everything. He’s the last person I want to fancy.”

“We can’t change who we like,” Gwen says wisely, patting his arm, and Merlin deflates.

“I’m fucked.”

“No,” Gwen says comfortingly. “You’re just normal.”

“Normal people don’t snog the captain of the football team and then lie about it to everyone.”

“I’m sure Gwaine will forgive you for keeping it a secret.”

Merlin grimaces, and Gwen stares at him. She hits his arm, and Merlin winces.

“You told Gwaine before me?!”

“Sorry.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “You’re hopeless.”

Merlin can only agree, and he hopes this will all just go away.

*

Realizing that he likes Arthur does nothing to help his predicament. Now, in addition to feeling angry all the time, he also feels sad. When he finally tells Gwaine, Gwaine only assures him that there are other fit football captains out there.

None of the football players have accosted him in the hall, though, so Merlin assumes Arthur has kept his word about not telling. 

Merlin hasn’t actually spoken to Arthur since that night, and he has no desire to. There is nothing Arthur could say to change what happened, and Merlin doesn’t need to waste his time listening to half-assed excuses.

Alice says nothing about the quality of Arthur’s essays, and Merlin thinks that his theory about Arthur doing badly on purpose may have been correct. Arthur really went through a lot for this plot of his. Merlin would almost admire the cleverness of it all if he wasn’t so pissed off.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Gwen assures him as they walk down the steps and head towards home. Around them, other students mill in the nice weather, taking their time to go home.

Merlin knows Gwen feels she has to say that as his best friend, but he honestly doesn’t even know what that means. He doesn’t know what he wants to happen.

“I wish Arthur had never talked to me in the first place.”

Gwen pats his arm as though she knows he’s lying. He is. Since he’s come out, he hasn’t had anyone like Arthur, actually willing and eager to try things, although that was probably all just to keep Merlin around. He probably hadn’t actually wanted to. Merlin isn’t really sure how someone pretends for that long.

Lost in thought, he doesn’t notice the swish of long black hair, not until he nearly runs into the girl blocking the sidewalk.

Looking up, he frowns at Morgana, and beside him, Gwen doesn’t say anything, but her hand tightens over Merlin’s arm.

“Merlin, right?” Morgana asks without waiting.

“Er.”

“Arthur’s _friend_ ,” she says, and Merlin feels all the colour draining from his face. His heart tumbles down into the growing pit in his stomach. Morgana knows. And if Morgana knows, then everyone else must know too. What has Arthur told her? What has he told his football mates? Merlin immediately makes plans to ask his mother to stay home from school for the next week. “Relax,” she says at the way Merlin’s eyes widen in panic.

“What do you want, Morgana?” Gwen asks from beside Merlin, and Merlin is glad someone can still talk. His tongue feels like lead in his mouth.

Morgana’s cool green eyes flick to Gwen but she doesn’t address her when she speaks next.

“I merely stopped by to say that while Arthur can be a real tosser, he’s usually got his heart in the right place, even if his mouth isn’t.”

“I’m not interested in what Arthur does,” Merlin says, forcing his mouth to form words. He pushes past Morgana, but she turns.

“Well, he’s interested in you, God knows why,” she says, the last part mostly to herself, but Merlin hears. “I’m sick of his moping. Uther is a real cock-up, and whatever you think of Arthur, you don’t know the half of it.”

She flips her hair over her shoulder with a haughty turn and leaves them on the sidewalk.

“What do you think that meant?” Gwen asks as Merlin stares after her. 

“It doesn’t matter. She’s just part of Arthur’s plan.”

“Plan to what, though?”

Merlin sighs. “I don’t know. I give up understanding anything about Arthur.”

“You’ll be fine,” she assures him again, and Merlin wishes he could believe her.

*

Gwaine seems to take it upon himself to compensate for the loss of Arthur in Merlin’s life with even more public affection than normal. Not that Merlin doesn’t appreciate the concern, but he doesn’t think Gwaine hugging him every time he sees him is helping much. If anything, it only garners more strange looks from their classmates, and now everyone is going to think he and Gwaine are shagging.

At least they won’t think that he and Arthur are together.

“Gwaine, will you stop it?” Merlin says one lunch as Gwaine drapes himself over Merlin’s shoulders and Merlin shoves him off. “Get off.”

“Just trying to make you feel better,” Gwaine says, though he removes his arm finally. “I bet Arthur was nice and warm.”

Merlin glares at him, but he’s stopped from saying anything as Freya arrives, her eyes bright as she hurries over.

“You’ll never guess what I heard,” she says eagerly, taking her seat and dumping her sack on the floor.

“They’re canceling end-of-year exams?” Merlin guesses, but Freya rolls her eyes as though it’s a stupid suggestion. Merlin shrugs and reaches for his drink.

“No,” Freya says obviously. “I just heard that Arthur Pendragon…” She pauses for dramatic affect. “Is gay.”

Merlin chokes on his drink, coughing and wiping at his mouth as he squeaks, “What?”

“I know!” she says excitedly. “You think you would have known before we did!”

“How did-how-” Merlin stutters uselessly, and Gwaine thumps him on the back a few times.

“You know that fight with Valiant last year?” Freya asks, and Merlin nods. Who could forget all the blood? “Apparently Arthur came out to his close friends a while ago and Valiant made some homophobic comment.”

Merlin stares, the wheels turning in his head. “The team stopped picking on me after Valiant quit.”

“Maybe you have Arthur to thank for that,” Freya points out. 

Glancing up, Merlin searches out Arthur in the canteen. He’s in his usual spot surrounded by his friends, but he isn’t joining in the conversation today. Instead, he concentrates on his food, and Merlin can see other tables whispering the same way they are.

“So he came out?” Merlin asks, confused. Why would Arthur do that? Why would he do it now? At all? So close to the end of the year.

Freya leans in. “Well, I _heard_ his dad caught him with a bloke a few weeks ago. They had a huge row about it. His dad threatened to disinherit him. I guess he thinks Arthur being gay will ruin the family name.”

Merlin can’t believe it. Across the table, Gwen stares at him with wide eyes, and Gwaine cranes over the crowd to look at Arthur, not bothering with subtlety.

“It’s too bad.” Freya sighs. “All the girls are going to be disappointed now. But hey, you have a shot.”

“No,” Merlin mutters, returning his gaze to his plate. “I don’t.”

Morgana had been right. He doesn’t understand anything about Arthur. He’s misjudged him. Maybe Arthur really did like him. Merlin doesn’t know anymore, and he doubts he’ll ever find out. The best thing to do, he decides as he tries to ignore the whispers filling the canteen, is to go about his life as if Arthur never happened.

*

His resolution to ignore Arthur only lasts as long as the rest of his classes, and when he’s released for the day, he heads to the library to get some work done before going home. He likes the library because it’s quiet and comfortable.

He doesn’t choose his and Arthur’s usual table, but picks one out of the way, near a window where he can stare out at the persistent drizzle of rain. 

Alice’s latest essay assignment sits half-written in his notebook, but Merlin can’t seem to concentrate. Whispers in the library break his concentration even more when he tries to focus.

Annoyed, he wishes people would just stop talking. The whispers don’t stop, though, and Merlin finally looks up to tell whoever it is to shut up when his gaze falls on Arthur standing before him.

All of a sudden, the whispers make sense, and Merlin doesn’t know what to say as Arthur takes the seat across from him. Arthur glances back, though, and the whispers stop abruptly.

Behind his back, Merlin can still see people glancing over at them, but they’ve stopped talking.

“Hi,” Arthur says finally, and Merlin doesn’t know what to do.

“Hi?”

Arthur scoots the chair in closer, elbows on the table, and he pauses.

“So I’m guessing you heard?”

Merlin drops his pen on his notebook and leans back. He isn’t sure how he wants to do this, or what exactly he’s doing. A part of him is still angry with Arthur for everything and another part knows how awful it is to be whispered about constantly.

“I heard you broke Valiant’s jaw last year because he said something homophobic.”

Arthur nods slowly. “I thought he was a good friend, but I was wrong. Only Leon, Percy, and Morgana knew before today. And, well, you.”

“I didn’t know,” Merlin says stupidly, watching the way Arthur’s shoulders seem a little slumped, as though he’s just tired. Merlin knows the feeling. 

Arthur’s eyebrow wrinkles slightly. “How could you not know? We were snogging.”

“I-” Merlin shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know. I thought - I don’t know what I thought. I thought you were bored. I thought it was just game for you. And I was right.”

“What?” Arthur asks, looking confused, and Merlin determinedly doesn’t say anything to comfort him. “Are you - d’you mean my father? Merlin, my father has known that I was gay since I told my friends. He doesn’t approve of it. He thinks it’s bad for the family, bad for the company, just bad in general.”

“That doesn’t explain anything, though,” Merlin says obviously. He wants answers. He wants Arthur to explain things, why he did it, what it meant. He’s tired of being in the dark. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Arthur says, shrugging. 

“If it wasn’t a game, what was it?”

Arthur pauses, and Merlin thinks that this is it. This is the real reason he went through all this trouble, why he’s trying to apologize, sort of, right now. 

Arthur shifts in his chair, looking uncomfortable for probably the first time ever. Even with his father, Arthur had seemed in control, though angry. 

“It was an idiot who likes you.”

Merlin stares as the words sink in, but then he shakes his head. “You can’t fancy me.”

“Why not?” Arthur scoffs.

“Because you’re Arthur Pendragon.”

“So?”

“Because that’s not how it works!”

Arthur shakes his head at Merlin. “I haven’t done this a lot, but usually, it’s my understanding anyway, that when someone says that they fancy you, you don’t question it. Usually, you say it back.”

“Well, we can’t all have movie romances.”

“Merlin!” Arthur says, laughing as though he just can’t believe him, but Merlin doesn’t think he’s doing anything wrong here.

He really doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do anyway. Should he just believe Arthur? After everything they’ve gone through, he should just accept that Arthur does fancy him and it wasn’t some weird humiliation game?

People around the library are looking over at them again at Arthur’s exclamation, but they look away when Arthur turns to see what Merlin is looking at.

Reaching across the table, Arthur takes Merlin’s hand. “Just tell me. Do you fancy me or not?”

Merlin can’t lie. He just can’t, not when Arthur has his hand, fingers stroking down the palm, and he’s spent the last two months lying to everyone, including himself.

“Yes,” he says finally, quietly to the table. “But—”

He never finishes his sentence as Arthur leans across the table and drags him into a kiss. 

Merlin has never kissed anyone anywhere so public, and he feels a flush on his cheeks as he realizes that everyone can see them. Arthur doesn’t seem to care, though, fitting his mouth against Merlin’s and only pulling back when neither of them can breathe.

“But?” he prompts, and Merlin blinks dazedly.

“But you’re a prat,” he says finally, licking his lips, and working hard to stop his smile as Arthur grins.

“Yep.”

“And your father hates me.”

“Mhm.”

Merlin pauses. “And the football team is not going to beat me into a bloody pulp?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

For a second, Merlin tries to think, but he doesn’t know what there is to think about. He thinks too much.

“So that’s it?”

“I don’t know.” Arthur shrugs. “I’d say it’s just the beginning.” He smiles at Merlin.

“Did you actually need help with your essays?” Merlin asks. He can’t go on without knowing. It’s been eating him up.

“I wouldn’t say I’m ace at essays,” Arthur admits. “But I’m not so terrible to need so much extra help.”

“So you knew who I was before this?”

Arthur laughs. “Of course. I’ve known who you were since year ten when you tripped over your feet in gym class and landed flat on your face.”

“What a great memory,” Merlin mutters, but Arthur leans over the table and reaches for his face, drawing him in close again.

“I thought you were an adorable, clumsy, bookish nerd.”

“Thanks.”

Arthur grins as he leans into Merlin’s mouth. “You’re welcome.”

As Arthur kisses him, Merlin doesn’t care about the eyes on them or the fact that tomorrow, it will be all over the school. For the first time in his life, he doesn’t care, and that makes him smile against Arthur’s mouth as he kisses him one more time.

*

FIN.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for the sheer lack of understanding of the British education system.


End file.
